


The Blood of Old Valyria

by ASongofIceandHope (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Cersei is Cersei, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow looks like Rhaegar, Mates, Minor JonRobb, Minor Robbaery, Multi, R plus L equals J, Targaryens are Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:38:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7741921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ASongofIceandHope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Targaryens escaped the Doom they thought they were safe, but they cursed themselves in another way. <br/>The Starks descended from the First Men, and old magic runs through their veins.<br/>---<br/>Ned Stark didn't believe in all the old tales about the Targaryens until he finds himself raising a halfling alongside his son who has their family's "gift." <br/>Parenthood just got a whole lot harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wanted to see the Targaryens as vampires and there is a lack of AUs about such a topic in the fandom, so I thought I would give it a go!

Ned could smell the blood as soon as he reached the small hallway between him and whatever was awaiting him beyond that door. He felt as if he had searched for so long for his sister, and now here he was, just a few feet away from his beloved little sister, and he was beginning to fear his time with her could be cut short. _What has he done to Lyanna?_ he thought, his heart pounding as he barged into the room without hesitation. 

Lyanna was laying in bed, the entire lower half of her body covered with blood, but kept from sight by a blanket that Ned assumed was soaked in her blood. Her hair was sticking to her forehead and her face glistened with sweat from sort of difficulty she must have endured. Lyanna's eyes, once bright and mischievous, were dull and half closed as her breathing weakened. Two handmaidens looked at him in shock, and skittered out of his way as he strode over to Lyanna’s bedside to take her hand.

“Oh, am I happy to see you, big brother,” she said softly. Ned managed a smile for her and smoothed her hair back tenderly. He looked over her face, taking in her appearance once more–she wasn’t long for the world, he feared–when he noticed the small puncture wounds in her neck. They were tiny, not much bigger than the circumference of her little finger, and had since healed over. At first, he wasn't sure what they were or where they came from, but then Ned’s blood ran cold. Rumors had swirled in the north for years about strange happenings in the Red Keep; of maiden sacrifices and goblets filled with red liquid that many questioned whether or not it was wine or… something else entirely. Elders had told stories that the Targaryens did not escape The Doom of Valyria completely unscathed… that by fleeing their homeland they doomed themselves in another way. Of course, Ned had always dismissed these tales as of being just that--stories designed to make naughty children behave and remember to obey their king. Now though, seeing those bite marks on his sister's neck, Ned knew they were more truth than fiction.

“What… What did he do to you?” Ned hissed, his heart breaking in two. “Lyanna, Rhaegar–” she squeezed his hand and silenced him with a look. Lyanna had always had that power over him.

“He… He is not a monster, Ned,” she whispered. “I… I need to tell you something…" She hesitated, scared to tell her brother what she had done. "I… I married him, Ned. At the first Weirwood we could find on our way here… and… I gave him a son… You have to protect him, Ned. If Robert finds out he’ll kill him, you know he will. His… His name is Jaehaerys. Please… Please take care of him, Ned. Promise me.” Ned looked to one of the handmaidens who handed him the babe in question; the child was sleeping peacefully, but Ned’s heart only sank further when he pulled the blanket back from his head to reveal wispy silver curls. “Promise me, Ned…” Lyanna murmured as she saw the look on his face.

“I… I promise, Lya,” he said. “I will take him to Winterfell and raise him as my own.” Though he didn’t know how he was going to get away with raising a boy who looks just like his father’s house. The similarity continued when the boy opened his eyes a crack to reveal a stunning shade of indigo so dark it was nearly black. Just like Rhaegar.

“And… the curse,” Lyanna was beginning to fade quickly and she knew she needed to tell Ned everything if her baby boy was to have a chance. “He… He will need… blood… Small amounts. You… You can give him milk as well; he hasn’t bitten the wet nurse…” Lyanna chuckled at that as if she was amused. 

The babe began to fuss as if on cue, and Ned, not knowing what to do, cautiously handed the child to the handmaiden, nicked his finger with the knife on his belt, then took the child back and offered the bleeding extremity to him. Ned wasn’t sure if he ought to be horrified or relieved when the child wrapped his tiny hands around it and sucked away. He couldn't imagine how much blood the boy would need as he grew, but for now it seemed he only craved a few drops, and fell asleep as soon as he was done with Ned's finger.

“Jaehaerys,” Ned mumbled. “Well that certainly won’t do…” He would need a better name, a… bastard’s name, for the sake of hiding the boy. “Well, you will be a Snow. And…” His trueborn son, Robb, was named for his dear friend Robert Baratheon. They were both fostered at the Eyrie with… “Jon. Jon Snow, named for Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Eyrie. The… bastard of Winterfell… What do you think of that, Lya?" He looked up from the child to the bed and paled at the sight of his sister; her chest no longer rising and falling, eyes closed, with a serene smile on her face. "Lya?" Ned mumbled the childhood nickname softly, as if he didn't want to believe she was gone; though he had seen enough corpses during Robert's war to know what it looked like when someone died. 

Jon fussed as if he could tell his mother was gone, and Ned managed a bit of a tearful smile for him. "She loved you very much, little one," he murmured. "But it's you and me now. You and Uncle Ned. And I'm going to raise you as my own, even if it means losing my head."

Howland Reed was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps that led into the tower, and stared at the child Ned carried in his arms. "That... Lyanna... She had his child?" he asked. Ned nodded.

"But as far as anyone is concerned, Jon is my son," Ned told him as he mounted his horse. "There's a lot of ground to cover from here to Winterfell, and we best start practicing keeping up pretenses." And he'd have to think about what he was going to tell Catelyn.

~~~~~

“Honestly, Ned,” Catelyn Stark sighed when her husband arrived at Winterfell with Jon in tow. The babe had her husband’s finger in his mouth and was cooing softly, obviously a bright little thing despite being not much older than a newborn. “Whose babe is this? Obviously you could not sire a child with such… unique hair…” her voice trailed off. The child was obviously a Targaryen, and she didn’t know why her husband had bothered bringing the thing into their home. It was like he was asking for Robert to chop off his head (and she didn't even want to imagine what he would do to the child).

“All you need to know, Cat, is that he has my blood,” Ned stated. _In more ways than one now,_ Ned thought. He and Howland Reed had taken turns pricking their fingers and offering them to Jon, though Ned had found the boy preferred his blood than the blood of the Crannogman. Ned wondered if it was because he likely smelled and tasted like his mother. “And we will raise him here, at Winterfell.” Catelyn stared him down as he moved to take the babe into the castle and up to the nursery where Robb slept. He obviously wasn’t going to be putting the babe in the same cradle as his normal son–or at least, Ned hoped he was normal, and not like his brothers and father–for fear that the babe would try to nibble on him. Not that Ned knew how Jon could, but he wouldn't risk it.

“Ned,” Catelyn stood expectantly in the doorway. “I am your wife. You can tell me the truth.” Though she was beginning to piece together some sort of narrative; he had brought his dead sister’s body home from Dorne along with the strange silver-haired babe. His sister, who had been taken by a Targaryen prince… Catelyn couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Is he Lyanna’s?” 

The words rattled Ned’s brain as he set Jon down in the spare crib; he imagined he could tell Catelyn the truth. They were married, as strange as that felt, and he needed to trust her. Would Brandon have told her the truth if he was the one living, married to her with his dead sister's child to protect? Ned imagined he would; Brandon was fearless and took risks. And now he was gone. 

“Yes,” he sighed as he turned to face her. “He is Lyanna’s son by Rhaegar Targaryen. And he is a trueborn heir. My… My best friend sits on a throne that is rightfully my nephew’s.” Catelyn nodded and her gaze remained focused on the child. They were housing the rightful king of Westeros, and they would be raising him right alongside their own son.

“Is… Is he cursed like they say the Targaryens are… were?” Catelyn only asked because she worried about Robb. Ned nodded.

“Yes, but he can eat just as we do,” he murmured. “Stop worrying, Cat. I will tell Maester Luwin and he will help me figure out what to do. I promise.” Though Ned was worried he was beginning to make promises he couldn’t keep. 

Jon began to snuffle and fuss in the crib, and Catelyn sighed; she moved into the nursery and scooped up the babe, holding him close and trying to soothe him. Ned had began to recognize Jon's different cries during their journey - which ones meant he needed to be changed or fed and whatnot - and took him from her.

"He needs to be changed," he said. "Call for the wet nurse; I've got him." Catelyn nodded, amazed that Ned would volunteer so quickly to take the boy, though she remembered that they had spent time on the road together and he likely knew him as well as she knew Robb. She could only hope Ned would care as much for their own son as he did Jon. 

Ned smiled down at Jon as the boy seemed to settle and hush in his arms; his little hands grabbed at Ned's tunic sleeves, balling the fabric up in his little fists as he sniffled. Catelyn returned with the wet nurse who took him and changed him. While she was doing that, Ned picked up Robb from his cradle and held him close, chuckling at the auburn wisps on the top of his head. "He'll look like a Tully," he noted. Catelyn nodded; she had hoped that Robb would look like a Stark, but seeing her little boy sharing in her red curls and blue eyes made her happy. And they had time to have more children, after all. Though seeing how Lyanna had managed to give Rhaegar a beautiful baby boy with silver curls and shining indigo eyes... Catelyn had to admit she wished she had done the same for Ned. 

Jon seemed to fuss as soon as Robb nuzzled against Ned's chest, and Catelyn watched with a smirk as he tried to juggle the two boys. 

"They like their papa," she said. "They'll be great friends I think, but the competition between them will be fierce. I can tell just by how they cling to you." Sure enough, Jon and Robb both were clinging to Ned's tunic, both of them fast asleep. Ned could see a friendly sibling rivalry arising between the two eventually, but for now... they were just cute.

"They'll be the greatest of friends," Ned agreed. "And they will push each other to be the greatest men they can be. I can feel it in my bones." He slowly put them back in their cribs, pulling their blankets up so they would stay warm. Even in the middle of summer a chill could be found in the air around Winterfell.

"Thank you for telling me the truth about him, Ned," Catelyn murmured as they walked out of the nursery arm-in-arm. "Though it will become difficult to hide him..." 

"Yes, but Robert should never travel this far north," Ned pointed out. "He will never see Rhaegar's son."

~~~~~

Cersei Lannister was not amused when she was roused from sleep at sunrise by one of her handmaidens. The girl told her that Jon Arryn wished to see her, and that whatever the old man was worried about was of dire importance. Cersei almost wished to tell him that whatever he had to tell her could wait for the morning, but she was the queen now and her father would not be pleased if he heard she was ignoring her husband's Hand. She climbed out of bed and grabbed her dressing robe, drawing it close as she was led to the Tower of the Hand. Her body automatically tensed when the sounds of a crying baby reached her ears. 

When she entered the main solar, she found Lord Arryn cradling a tiny babe wrapped in a tattered and stained white--or at least Cersei thought it was white--blanket. The sobs were harsh and grating, and she wanted nothing more than to silence the child. 

"Whose child is that?" she questioned. "And can you stop its incessant wailing?" Lord Arryn frowned deeply at her and moved toward her, the squalling babe thrashing in his arms.

"The note she was left with says she is your uncle's child," he said. "Gerion apparently married a girl in Yunkai, the daughter of a Master, but he left to go on one of his adventures and when she gave birth... well, she didn't know what to do. She can't take care of the child herself, and her family is refusing to help her until your uncle returns. And you know as well as I--"

"That no one knows when he will return to Yunkai," Cersei finished. "So the girl sends her child across the Narrow Sea and just drops her child on our doorstep, hoping we will take the babe in?" Cersei looked at the little child whose sobs had died down but still had tears streaking down their cheeks. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl," Lord Arryn smiled. "Amelie, she calls her. And the mother sent a small token with her; she wrote that your father or Kevan would recognize the pendant." Cersei looked closer, and she didn't know how she had missed the gold charm with the Lannister sigil, encircled with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. She knew the pendant; it had been her grandmother's and Gerion had taken it when he had come of age.

"Amelie Lannister," Cersei mumbled as she took the girl from Lord Arryn. The child had slightly tanned skin, but with a golden tuft of hair on the top of her head, and when she opened her eyes she had Lannister green eyes. And Cersei saw the snuffling little bundle as an ultimate pawn to use against her father and husband. Cersei intended to be a mother to her, to make her dependent on her. 

"Do we have a cradle for her?" Cersei inquired. Lord Arryn nodded and led Cersei to the makeshift nursery that had been arranged for the girl. "This will do... for now." She tenderly placed Amelie in her cradle and tucked her in. A cold smile spread across her face as the babe hushed and drifted off to sleep. "Lord Arryn, have some clouts made for Amelie; cotton preferably. I'll have a dress maker start to work on little gowns for her." Lord Arryn was amazed that Cersei actually cared about the little girl, but nodded and had a message sent to a seamstress to make clouts for the newest member of House Lannister. 

Jaime had heard the baby crying as well, and eventually happened upon the small nursery that Cersei was lingering in. "So that's who was making all that fuss," he chuckled. "She's a lovely little thing. Who--"

"Uncle Gerion," Cersei interrupted. "His wife left her at our door, expecting me to take her in. And here we are. She... She looks like she could be ours, Jaime..." He had to agree; she looked very much like them. "This is what we could have had... A beautiful little girl for us to raise..."

"You know we couldn't, Cersei," Jaime tried not to roll his eyes. "Even... Even if we do have children, they will be Robert's." Sometimes he wished he loved another, but Cersei was the only woman he had ever loved and he was sure she was the only woman he would ever love.

Robert was introduced to their new ward the following morning as they broke their fast; he was indifferent as Cersei expected, but she fawned over the little girl who, now that she was in a fresh blanket and had a clean clout on, was the sweetest little dear Cersei had ever encountered. Of course, it didn't change the fact that Cersei didn't really like children, but she was practically her own child. She would have to act like she loved her at least.

"Just make sure she doesn't make too much noise," Robert grumbled. Cersei rolled her eyes at this and simply held Amelie closer.

"She's a baby, Robert," she stated. "Babies cry. It's in their nature." It was then that she decided she couldn't bear his children; he wouldn't care for them at all. And when he simply grumbled at her response she knew for sure. "I promise you'll see very little of her, your grace."

"We should send her elsewhere to foster," Robert stated. "Send her up north to Ned Stark--"

"Lord Stark has a young son of his own," Cersei reminded. "Amelie will stay here with me. When that girl of Gerion's gave Amelie up, I became her mother and I will be responsible for her. That is final."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned falls into a predictable pattern with Jon and Robb until a major change throws them all for a loop; Cersei continues to pretend to be nurturing and motherly to Amelie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be aiming for Sunday updates; it's a consistent schedule for me and if all else fails I can write and publish a chapter all in one day.

Years passed and Ned watched his little sister's son grow alongside his own; Jon was a happy boy for the most part, though even at the tender age of five he seemed keenly aware of the position he held in the Stark household. Ned could remember days past when Jon, tears streaming down his cheeks, would run to his study and ask why he was so "different" and why he needed to drink his "red drink." (Ned didn't have the heart to explain to him that he needed blood--that would be a discussion for another time--but he managed to calm him enough that Jon returned to the courtyard to play with Robb.) Maester Luwin kept track of him and the curse, while also tracking down as many works as he could on the subject; he now knew about how much blood Jon would need as he grew, when to expect his fangs to grow in--it was said Aegon the Conqueror had fangs as sharp as Valyrian steel, and Ned hoped Jon wouldn't take after him in that aspect--and other points of concern. 

"He's quite rambunctious today," Luwin noted as he looked out the window of the Maester's Keep. Ned was visiting him that afternoon, and he too was paying attention to the two boys playing in the courtyard. "I hear Old Nan talk about him; she says he reminds her of your brother more and more every day." 

"Aye," Ned nodded. "He has Brandon's spirit." _And look where that got Brandon,_ Ned thought woefully. He had nightmares at times about his brother's fate; strapped to a strangulation device, he struggled to reach the sword that was outside his grasp, the sword that would have freed their father who was burning to death before his very eyes... Ned knew everyone who lived through Robert's rebellion would be haunted by ghosts, but sometimes Ned felt like he had more than his fair share. 

"Are you still having your nightmares?" Luwin seemed to have caught on to his wistfulness. "Who was it this time?" 

"Lyanna," Ned said. "I... I was in the Tower of Joy and I had Jon in my arms... She... She blamed me. Blamed me for her not being able to see her little boy grow up..." He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I know it's not my fault, I'm not crazy, but... a little part of me wonders if there was something I could have done for her; maybe not to save her, but ease her suffering..." Luwin nodded and moved to sit, motioning for Ned to do the same. 

"You are raising her son and have kept him safe, just as you promised," he told him. "Lyanna would be so proud of you, so proud of him... As much as I see his father in him, he is every bit her son. Did he not sit a pony by himself just this past week?" Ned nodded with a small smile; Jon was just as good with horses as his mother, and he would make sure to encourage and nurture such a gift. 

"Yes," he replied. "He rode circles around Robb in the courtyard; I fear he was rather cross with him later, as he swung rather hard at Jon during their sword practice." Luwin chuckled at this and dusted off an old volume he had been reading about Jon's curse.

"That is good," he said. "He could still have many gifts; I read in an old Targaryen history that inhuman speed and strength often accompany the blood craving..." That made sense to Ned; when Rhaegar had fought Robert at the Trident, the prince had moved so smoothly through the river that he could have been on dry land. Though the prince must not have inherited the unnatural strength Luwin spoke of, considering Robert had made mince meat of him despite being wounded. "And he can continue to feed on animal blood; while most Targaryen kings preferred to feed on servants, maidens, or whatnot, there are a few from their house that refused human blood. Specifically, King Jaehaerys I, Daeron II, and Aegon V. I have written to Maester Aemon at The Wall, and he follows the same tradition as his brother. In fact, he says your brother is a great help to him when he requires blood; that Benjen will use his other form to hunt rabbits and other game, then take them back to him to be drained." That didn't surprise Ned one bit; Brandon had always preferred to hunt in his other form because as much as animals feared direwolves they feared man more. Benjen seemed to use the same logic.

"Well let us hope Jon inherits his father's speed because there's no changelings around here to trot off into the woods and bring him back a squirrel or two," Ned sighed. He hoped Robb wasn't like his two brothers and his late father; Benjen had been about Robb's age when he first changed, and thus far nothing had happened. Ned imagined it was the combination of his lack of the Stark "gift" and Catelyn's normal noble blood. 

"Have you been keeping an eye on Robb?" Luwin inquired. He knew Ned worried about Robb becoming a changeling, but as he learned more about Jon and what his... situation required, the more Luwin thought it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.

"Yes, of course. But I can never tell one way or another; since I don't have the gift I can't pinpoint all the signs." Ned wished Benjen wasn't at The Wall; he would have a better idea about all those things. "Though I doubt Robb has the gift considering I do not have it and the Tullys do not have any magic of their own. And if that's all, I think I shall go check on my wife." Lady Catelyn had recently learned she was once again with child; this would be their third together after Robb and now Sansa, who was two.

"Very well, my lord. I will keep researching the Targaryen curse then."

~~~~~

"Come on! Keep up, Robb!" Jon shouted as he dashed about the courtyard with his wooden practice sword in hand. Robb, who was taller than his brother but also carried more baby fat, huffed and caught up eventually with his small, nimble companion. "Rah! I'm Aemon the Dragonknight!" He lunged at Robb, his silvery curls bouncing at his shoulders as he leapt from the crate he had climbed. Robb barely managed to sidestep the attack, and Jon tumbled to the ground, ignoring the tears at the knees of his trousers. 

"Then I'm the Lord of Winterfell!" Robb retorted. They often played at being lords or knights or princes; Jon loved the stories of Aemon the Dragonknight, so he was always him, while Robb preferred to be Lord of Winterfell or King Daeron I, "The Young Dragon."

"I'm the Lord of Winterfell!" Jon cheered as he swung his practice sword; he was rather good with a sword for one so young, and Ser Rodrik intended to move Jon up to tourney steel around his sixth nameday. Robb frowned deeply at his words and pushed Jon's sword away. 

"You can't be the Lord of Winterfell," he said. "You're a bastard. Father says you'll have your own holdfast, or you can go to The Wall when you're older, but you couldn't ever be his heir." The reminder brought tears to Jon's eyes, and he dropped his sword, running back into the main keep. Robb's brows scrunched together and he too put down his sword, following his brother back into the keep. He knew he had hurt his feelings, and he hadn't intended to, so he had to fix it. Jon was sniffling sadly while hiding behind an old tapestry, his face hidden in the crook of his elbow. "Jon, I didn't mean to make you sad..." Robb sat down next to him and threw an arm around his slender shoulders. "I... It's just you're so good at being Aemon the Dragonknight! You've got the right hair... I wish my hair was that silver..."

"You... You do?" Jon looked up at him with big indigo eyes. Tears spilled down his cheeks and Robb wiped one away as he nodded. "O-Okay... Let's go play, then!" As was usual for children, the insult was quickly forgotten and the boys returned to their game. 

Catelyn and Ned soon decided to take a turn about the ramparts; Catelyn carried Sansa in her arms as the girl watched her brothers play. Sansa looked just as much like her mother's family as her brother Robb did; bright blue eyes watched Robb and Jon questionably, as if she wasn't sure about the rowdy activities the two were partaking in.

"Do you want to go down and play with them, little love?" Catelyn chuckled as she pulled Sansa's little white cloak closer. Sansa shook her head.

"No!" she exclaimed, rather pleased with herself. Catelyn remembered when Robb was the same way; she could already foresee an entire year of "no." "No play with Robb! Play with Jon!" Ned was both amused and worried about Sansa's curiosity toward her cousin; while he was mostly sure it would fade away as they grew, recent history involving Targaryen princes and Stark girls made him wary. 

"Wouldn't you rather go take your nap, Sansa?" Ned asked as he took her from his wife. They stopped and watched the boys play; Jon was moving as quick as ever, but Robb was keeping up more than usual. Sansa shook her head and buried her face in the crook of his neck. 

Robb gave a little shout and leapt at Jon; this move wouldn't be unusual for Robb if it wasn't for what happened when he did. 

"Aah!" Jon cried as a little red direwolf pup leapt onto him, forcing him into the dirt. Ned's heart nearly stopped and he quickly handed Sansa over to Catelyn before running down to the courtyard. ".... Robb?" The pup licked Jon's face and Jon giggled. "Robb! You're a puppy!" Jon leapt to his feet and Robb jumped up at him, wriggling and wagging his tail. Ned scooped Robb up into his arms and took him straight up to Maester Luwin. "Father, why is Robb a puppy?" Jon trailed after him, which only made the task of carrying Robb harder for Ned.

"It's a long story," Ned sighed. "You know how we are descended from the First Men? Well, they say there was more magic in the world back then. Mortals had special powers and could change their form and perform conjurings... most of that magic is gone, but a small bit of it remains in House Stark. Robb is what my father called a 'changeling'; he can shapeshift into a direwolf." 

"Will I be able to shapeshift too?" Jon trailed into the Maester's study. "I want to turn into a puppy!" Ned sighed and set Robb down on the long wooden table in front of Luwin. 

"I... I'm afraid not, Jon," Ned knelt in front of him. "As much as you are a Stark, your other parent's blood is even stronger and powerful than mine." Which was true; the curse had overpowered every single Stark trait Lyanna could have given him. "But you are not any less important because you aren't a changeling. You know, I can't change either." Jon's eyes grew big; his father was everything a Stark ought to be.

"You can't?" he said in a hushed voice while Robb rolled onto his back and whined at them.

"No," Ned smiled and ruffled his curls. "My father could, and both my brothers, but I never could change form. Now, let's see if we can get your brother back to his old self, shall we?" He picked up Jon and set him on the table right next to Robb; Jon held his brother in his arms as Ned scratched Robb behind the ears. "Alright Robb, Benjen once told me how he got himself to change back, so I'm going to try and help you." Robb barked at him, and Ned assumed it was supposed to be a positive remark. "Try to think about some of your favorite things when you're in your human form; climbing trees and running around the courtyard with Jon, stealing lemon cakes from the kitchen, sitting on my lap while your mother knits or sews..."

Nothing happened, and Robb started to lick Jon's hand happily. "I don't think Robb wants to come back, father," he giggled. "I think he wants to stay a puppy." Ned frowned; Catelyn would likely murder him with his own greatsword if he didn't help Robb turn back into his human self. 

"Jon, hush," Ned scolded. "Come on, Robb. Focus. Think about the softness of your bed in the morning, how the sunlight hits your face as it shines through your window..." 

Moments after that thought, Jon was shocked to find Robb's head in his lap. His brother ruffled his own hair and sat up, scratching his nose. He seemed shocked to be back to normal, but also happy. Jon hugged him and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "I missed you, brother," he mumbled. "I'm so glad you're back..." Robb hugged him back and Ned smiled slightly; it hurt his heart to hear Jon utter the same words Lyanna greeted him with inside that cursed tower. Jon and Robb both hopped down from the table and made their way out of the room before being stopped by Ned and Maester Luwin.

"No more playing today," Ned told them. "You'll need to rest, Robb, and Jon... you stay here so you can have your red drink." Luwin went to retrieve the fresh blood they had taken from a stag that morning, pouring it into a pewter mug before offering it to Jon. Robb skittered off to bed, and Jon sat upon a worn wooden stool, bringing the mug to his lips cautiously. His eyes scanned the books on Luwin's desk, finding that the majority of them had something to do with House Targaryen. 

"Why are you reading about the Targaryens?" Jon asked, ever curious. "I thought they were bad, and that the king doesn't like them? That he took the throne from the old mad king?"

"The king does not like them, that's true," Ned said. "That's because he was supposed to marry your Aunt Lyanna, but she ran off with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, The Last Dragon. And not all Targaryens were bad; King Jaehaerys I was a great king, as was Daeron II, and even Jaehaerys II." Jon nodded and looked down at his cup, which was now empty.

"I see... Was Prince Rhaegar a bad man?" Jon's eyes widened as Luwin took his cup for him. "Another cupful please, Maester Luwin?" The Maester refilled his cup and Jon brought the thick red liquid to his lips once more. Ned hesitated to answer Jon's question; he hoped that he would have avoided talking about Rhaegar until the next winter came. Jon was far too young to be told the truth, so Ned scrambled to tell as much of the truth as he could.

"He... He was not bad, but he was a troubled, sad young man," he explained. "But he loved your aunt very much." Jon seemed to understand and finished his second cup of blood, placing it on top of the table in front of him before scooting off the stool he was sitting on. 

"I think I understand," he nodded. "But I can't say I like him if I ever meet the king, can I?" Ned shook his head. 

"No, you can't do that," he said. "Now go up to your chambers and take a nap; you'll want to rest before you have your supper." Jon did as he was told and returned to the chambers he shared with Robb. His brother was fast asleep, shifting restlessly. Jon kicked off his boots and scooted under the bedcovers next to him, drifting off to sleep...

_"Jon..." A pretty brunette woman was calling his name. Jon was in a place he had never seen before; he could feel the sun on his face and it felt hotter than it ever had at Winterfell. "Come here, darling..." He walked toward the woman, who had outstretched her hand to him. She seemed familiar to him, but Jon couldn't figure out who she was. The lady looked like she could be related to father, but how that could be, he didn't know._

_Jon reached for her hand, taking it just as a man with long silver hair not unlike his own stood opposite the young lady on Jon's other side.The man's eyes were as dark as Jon's, and were kind but sad._

_"Who are you?" he asked the man. "And who are you?" He looked at the lady._

_They didn't answer, and simply led him toward a towering red castle. Their smiles were warm and caring, and Jon found he didn't want to leave them. The silver haired man picked him up, and Jon wrapped his arms around his neck._

_"Time for your nap, my little dragon," the man told him as they entered the great red castle and began to trek up the stairs. "You've been busy today, your mother tells me." Jon looked at the lady who was smiling at him softly. They reached someone's bedchambers, and Jon assumed they must be his as he was set in the bed and tucked in by the man._

_"Mother?" he looked at the lady with big eyes. "But... I don't know my mother..." The lady smiled her warm smile once more and kissed his forehead, then ran her fingers through his curls._

_"You'll know me soon enough, my little dragon..."_

Jon sat up with tears in his eyes because of what he'd seen. Was that really his mother? Surely she couldn't be; she was obviously married to the silver haired man. He looked over to Robb, who had since fallen into a peaceful sleep, and sighed. Jon hopped out of bed, tugged his boots back on, then made his way to his father's study. If he had strange dreams, his father always told him to come see him. So that's exactly what Jon did.

Ned listened intently to Jon's whole entire spiel, amazed at the accuracy and the details he could recount; he knew almost immediately that the man and woman Jon described were Rhaegar and Lyanna, and that they must have been living in the Red Keep. 

".... And... And they called me 'little dragon' as if I was a Targaryen!" Jon exclaimed, his little voice nearly squeaking in frustration. "Why would they call me that? I'm not a Targaryen! But I felt... safe with them, father. They loved me, I think."

"It was just a dream, Jon," Ned assured. "You are a Stark. Don't you ever forget that." Jon nodded and threw his arms around Ned's neck. "If you dream about the man and woman again, I want you to tell me. Do you understand?" Jon nodded, though he didn't understand why it was such a big deal if his dream was just a dream after all. Ned was beginning to worry that Jon was having prophetic dreams, similar to the ones his father once had, but it didn't add up--Rhaegar had always had dreams concerning the future, and Rhaegar and Lyanna were dead. 

Jon returned to his bedchambers, and resumed his nap, finding that part of him hoped he would see the man and woman again. 

~~~~~

"Amelie, darling, let me see you!" Cersei purred as her little cousin twirled happily in the new lily white gown Cersei had ordered the seamstresses to make her. The little blonde, who was still rather small for her age, giggled and skipped to her "mother." Cersei lifted her into her lap, pleased with Amelie's girlish delight with the new gown. "Just lovely. Perfect for a little lady."

"Thank you, mother," Amelie giggled softly with a slight blush. She was a shy girl, and rarely would play with the other little girls who came and went from court. Cersei brushed one of her blonde curls off her shoulder, smiling at the fair complexion she had since developed. If she remained as gentle and sweet, Cersei would have no problems arranging an advantageous marriage for her. 

"Now what do you say to me because I gave you such a lovely gift?" Cersei inquired. She did dote on Amelie, but she expected to be obeyed as well.

"Thank you, mother," Amelie chorused in a sweet voice, throwing her arms around Cersei's neck and kissing her on the cheek. Cersei managed a fake smile for her, and sent Amelie off to her lessons just as Robert entered. 

"It seems this place is infested with blondes these days," he grumbled, reeking of wine and the tangy smell of sex. "Everywhere I turn there's one of you. How's the boy?" Robert was referring to Joffrey, who was now two and--though Cersei didn't notice--already a devious little monster who liked to step on bugs and would purposefully tear Amelie's sleeves or pull her hair ribbons from her hair. 

"He's down for his nap right now," Cersei said tensely. She didn't like it when Robert pretended to take interest in Joffrey; she knew that he was just relieved to have an heir. "Did you only come here to ask about your son, or is there something else you want?" 

"Quit spending the crown's money on your little cousin," Robert got straight to the point. "Ten gold dragons gone on that one little dress! She is not a princess, she's a normal noble girl. You can't spoil her when whatever nobleman's son you marry her off to won't be able to afford to cater to every damn whim of hers!"

"You have no claim to her or how I take care of her," Cersei retorted fiercely. "She is my blood, not yours, and my father funds the crown. I have just as much right to do as I please with that money as you do." She hated him, she truly did. She had decided as soon as Joffrey was born and Robert wasn't even there, arriving a day or so later with some pelt from an animal he'd killed on a hunt. Jaime had been at her side the entire time. 

"I am your king, woman," Robert snarled as he pointed at her. "I will be obeyed." If Jaime hadn't come in at that very moment, Cersei wasn't sure what would have happened next; she wasn't scared of Robert, but she would admit that he was physically stronger than her and could do a number on her if he dared. Of course, he needed her father's money and support so he rarely dared to raise a hand to her. 

"My queen, the crown prince is awake and wishes to see you," Jaime said, his gaze harsh as he took in the situation. "What seems to be the problem, my king?" 

"You tell your sister to stop spending the crown's money on that little girl!" Robert ordered. "That... I won't stand for it!" And without saying another word, Robert stormed out of the room. Jaime was glad to see him go.

"I've seen Amelie's new dress," he told Cersei as soon as he was gone. "It suits her. You've done well by her, sister." They embraced each other and sat on the fine chaise in Cersei's solar.

"I think I've found a potential list of matches for her as well," she smirked. "My dear little Amelie will be sent to Highgarden to wed Loras Tyrell, or to Winterfell to wed Robb Stark as soon as she comes of age." Jaime didn't like the sound of either match; the Tyrells were schemers who sided with whoever happened to be in power, and the Starks... their ways were old-fashioned and straight-laced to the point where everything they did seemed backwards.

"Are you sure that's what's right for her?" he asked. He didn't dare tell her, but he was rather fond of the girl. 

"When have I ever been wrong, brother dear?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Robb are nearly men grown, and are dealing with all the changes and feelings that accompany such changes. Meanwhile, in King's Landing, Amelie is beginning to learn her role as a young noble girl as she experiences a major moment in becoming a woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some JonRobb, mainly with Robb being high-key gay for Jon. Might play with that some more because I like to imagine those two pretty boys kissing. Whoops.

"Come on, Robb! Keep up!" It was the middle of the night and the thirteen-year-old sons of Lord Eddard Stark were racing through the Wolfswood. Robb Stark was in his direwolf form, howling at his brother who was speeding through the trees as gracefully as a deer. Jon climbed up a tree, sitting in one of the low hanging branches. The vast autumn moon shone down on his face, his silver hair catching the light. He had begun to wear a single braid in his hair, much like his father had, though he didn't know that his father had worn his hair the same way. Ned couldn't help but think that Rhaegar was up in the otherworld, amused by his son's hairstyle.

"Seven hells," Robb shapeshifted back to his human form and leaned on the tree. "Could you be any faster?" Jon rolled his eyes and jumped back down to the ground, landing lightly on his feet. Robb was annoyed at his grace; it was a major advantage during sword practice and Robb got beaten more than he cared to admit. 

"I'm only fast where it counts," he winked. Jon wasn't completely sure what that meant, but it was a joke he'd learned from Theon Greyjoy and he thought it was rather clever. Robb on the other hand knew exactly what Theon had been referring to when he had first made that joke and cringed. He didn't know how Jon could remain so oblivious and innocent with Theon around.

"Come on, let's head back to the castle," Robb sighed. "Father will start to worry if we aren't back yet." Jon nodded and started to walk back with him toward the castle. They had made a habit of taking midnight runs through the woods; the practice had begun when Jon had finally grown fangs and could feed on animals himself. Of course, Ned had to tell Jon more about his curse and how to handle it at the time and it had been difficult; his cravings had become stronger when his fangs first appeared and Jon had almost taken a bite out of Sansa. 

"It's a nice night out," Jon noted softly. He wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth, even though his tunic and shirt was nearly ruined from hunting that night. "Though it's starting to get colder..."

"Father says winter shouldn't come for a few more years," Robb stated. "It's just a bit chilly out tonight is all." Jon said nothing more on the subject and Robb watched him look around the woods with a small smile on his face; he didn't know what it was about Jon, but he made him feel... strange. Especially now that they were older and were nearly men. He was sure Jon didn't think the same way--Jon didn't seem to be interested in boys or girls--and it made him feel inappropriate for thinking about him that way. Also, since they were brothers that made Robb feel even more... dirty to think about touching Jon or kissing Jon.

The two of them entered the castle through the kitchen entrance, heading up to their chambers and changing for bed. Well, Robb undressed and climbed right into bed as naked as the day he was born--since he had become a changeling, he was always rather hot--while Jon undressed and threw on a nightshirt. 

"Ugh, move," Jon grumbled, pushing Robb slightly as he climbed into bed next to him. He was quite the bed hog, and Jon had to shove him more often than not just to try and get some space. Robb smirked a bit and shoved him back, bumping him as Jon tried to get settled into bed. "I'm serious, Robb, move!" They continue to push and shove until Robb had rolled on top of Jon, pinning his brother down to the bed. He was much stronger than Jon, much to Jon's dismay. "Just let me go you ass!" Jon struggled beneath him and Robb grabbed his hips, chuckling at the thin curve of them. Jon's breath hitched at the touch, and he felt his cock stir ever so slightly. "Get off me! I'm serious, Robb! Stop!"

Robb was already painfully hard, though Jon wasn't aware of that. "No," Robb smirked. Jon felt his face grow hot and he pushed at Robb's chest, forcing Robb to roll off him. 

"We shouldn't do that," Jon mumbled. "You can't... we can't... it's not appropriate." He was aroused and it felt so wrong. Robb turned and faced him, cupping Jon's face.

"If the Targaryens dared to marry brother and sister for years, there's nothing wrong with us and how we feel," he murmured. "After all, you remember what Luwin said about Valyria and what they believed about men laying together? How they believed it pure if the two improved each other by their actions?" Jon had thought that an interesting fact about Valyria and the progressive thinking the world once had, but it hadn't crossed his mind as anything more. Robb ran his hand up Jon's thigh and Jon whimpered softly. 

"It... No, Robb," he mumbled. "You know we can't. What if we get caught? Father would be so disappointed..." But it wasn't as if he didn't want to; he just knew it was wrong. They both were just beginning to understand their bodies, and Jon didn't want things to get... weird. 

That was enough of a thought to turn Robb off from the thought of laying with his brother, but not enough of one to change the fact that his cock was begging to be touched. "Then go to sleep," he grumbled as he wrapped a hand around his length and began to get himself off. Jon turned away from him, pulling a pillow on top of his head to muffle Robb's soft moans. This wasn't something Jon found unusual, and he drifted off to sleep without another thought. Robb followed suit as soon as he finished. As Jon slept, he found himself in another one of his strange dreams.

_Fire. There was fire everywhere. Jon looked around as the flames seemed to come closer and closer, but when Jon tried to move toward the fire it did not burn. He could hear shouts and screams; Jon knew he was in some part of Winterfell, but he didn't know how to get through the flames and save whoever was screaming. Then he had an idea; if the fire didn't burn him, he could walk through it and get to whoever was in distress._

_Jon walked through the flames, squinting as he tried to see through the great smoke that stung his eyes and made him cough. He was unburnt, and reached a door, pushing it open and stumbling into the courtyard. The entire castle was aflame, but that wasn't the most peculiar thing; above him, three dragons circled Winterfell, screeching and roaring and breathing flame. One, which was red and black, had a small girl riding its back; she had silver hair just like Jon's and was dressed in red and black._

_"Stop!" he shouted, trying to get her attention. "There are people in there! Stop!" She didn't hear him, and her dragons torched the main keep once more. Jon ran back into the castle, looking for any signs of life. He found Robb, in wolf form, trying to find other family members. "Robb! Get out of here! Go!" The wolf seemed to understand and Jon watched him escape to the woods._

_"Help!" Jon heard Sansa scream and he burst through the nearest door, finding a column of red flame shooting up through the floor, separating him from Sansa. Though Jon didn't fear the flame and walked through it, grabbing Sansa and trying to shield her from the flame._

_He got her to safety, only stumble and trip as he tried to follow everyone into the woods._

_Then his surroundings changed; he was back at a familiar place--the red castle he had dreamt about many times--with the silver haired man and the young lady. But they weren't young like they once were; the man had worry lines through his forehead and the woman had laugh lines._

_"Come here, Jon," the woman waved him over. The man was wearing a crown--a detail Jon didn't remember--and looked up at him. "You know the time has come for your father to step down... He must go away and you know what we must do to keep up appearances." Jon frowned and looked to the silver haired man._

_"Go? Where are you going to go?" Jon asked. The silver haired man cupped his cheek and smiled sadly at him._

_"This... This crown, the throne... it has taken so much from me," he said. "You know what must happen now." The man pulled a beautiful dagger of Valyrian steel from a sheath at his hip, and pressed the hilt into Jon's hand. The man kissed the lady softly, then looked back to Jon._

_"Don't be scared, darling," the lady ran her fingers through Jon's hair. "Just do what father has told you to do." Jon didn't know what he had to do, but watched as the silver haired man bared his chest._

_And Jon knew. This was the only way one of his "kind" could be killed--with Valyrian steel._

_"Father, I can't do this," he murmured. "I'm not ready!"_

"I'm not ready!" Jon jolted awake and struggled to catch his breath. Robb stirred, cursing as he woke up to Jon's shout. He looked over at him in concern, watching as Jon ran his fingers through his hair. "Not ready for what?" Jon mumbled to himself. 

"Bad dream?" Robb asked softly. Jon nodded. "You ought to throw on your dressing robe and go tell father; no doubt he's still up anyway." Jon did just as Robb said and shrugged on the plain grey robe that hung on a hook next to Robb's own dark green one. He made his way toward the Lord of Winterfell's chambers and found that his father was still wide awake and reading some volume on The Long Night.

"Father?" Jon said softly as he moved into the room. Ned quickly put down his book and looked up. "I... I had another dream about the silver haired man and the young woman. But... they weren't young anymore. She was almost your age, I think, and he even older. The man... he said he was tired of the throne... he offered me a dagger and told me that I knew what I had to do..." He trailed off, the thought of killing the silver haired man too much for him.

"What did you have to do?" Ned asked, though he could assume from Jon's expression that it wasn't pleasant. "You can tell me, Jon."

"He wanted me to stab him. In the heart, I think. The dagger was Valyrian steel. I... I think it's how you can destroy people like... like me." Jon had decided almost immediately not to tell father about the dragon girl or Winterfell burning or Sansa nearly perishing in the flames. The dream with the man and woman had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Ned was surprised at Jon's revelation; Robert's warhammer did not have Valyrian steel. If what Jon had dreamt was true, then did Robert fail to kill Rhaegar? Surely it was not possible; Ned had seen the man's body himself. And Rhaegar's remains had been burned; it wasn't like he could reform from the ashes. 

"I've seen your kind destroyed in other ways, Jon," Ned told him. "And... And what you saw was just a dream; your place is here at Winterfell. You'll never have to worry about killing a king or taking a throne." He hoped. Ned's eyes flitted to the message from Cersei Lannister that had arrived earlier that day; her cousin, Amelie, was the same age as the boys, and the Queen believed that Robb could be a potential match for her. Ned still had to think of a response. 

Jon began to leave when something stopped him. It was something that had been bothering him for months now; ever since the dreams about the man and woman had begun to make more sense to him. It had been after he and Robb had been playing with Bran and Arya in the crypts. The statue of his Aunt Lyanna had a vague resemblance to the woman in his dreams. "Father, I... I am not a boy anymore," he stated. "There are things I know now, and there are things I don't but I ought to know them. I know the woman in my dreams is Aunt Lyanna. That makes the man with the silver hair Rhaegar Targaryen." Ned nodded; he wasn't going to say anything yet. He wanted to see what Jon could surmise. "The only way you could have had a child with hair like mine, father, is if there was some Targaryen princess or if a Dayne had Valyrian features. There was no Targaryen princess at the time of my birth; Princess Daenerys is younger than me. And Ashara Dayne had violet eyes but she did not have fair hair. This... This leaves one other possibility, because the only Stark to interact directly with a Targaryen for an extended amount of time... was your sister. Tell me father, and tell me now: am I truly your nephew?"

"Yes," Ned replied slowly. "You are my nephew, son of my sister and Rhaegar Targaryen. The crown prince married Lyanna when they ran away together, and when I came to retrieve her from the Tower of Joy--the place where she was being kept--I found her laying in a bed of blood. She had given birth to a son. A boy she called Jaehaerys after the wisest of kings and the most respected Targaryen in the north. She wanted me to protect you, and so I changed your name and claimed you as my own." Jon felt weak, and reached for a chair, sitting slowly. 

"I... Father, when you retrieved me... It was after the sack of King's Landing was it not?" he asked. "Am... Am I the rightful king of Westeros?"

"That is a difficult question," Ned replied. "By the Targaryen line of inheritance, you are the rightful king--the sons of the eldest son always inherit the throne before that son's brothers--but House Targaryen was overthrown. The line of inheritance of House Baratheon is what will be followed, and Robert has two sons and two brothers. If... If some tragedy were to occur and the throne would be without claimants... then, and only then, would I say you have unchallenged right to the Iron Throne."

"Do... Do you think they would want me to have the throne? My mother and my father?" 

"I'm sure your father would want you to have it. In fact, I'm sure Rhaegar would want you to fight for it. But your mother... I don't think she ever intended for you to be king; you would have been a second son, of course, and would have always been a prince unless something happened to Aegon..." Ned could just picture Lyanna cradling a smaller Jon, brushing her fingers through his hair and telling him stories of the north. It was something Ned wished Jon could have had, but he couldn't change the past.

"Then I'm going to do what my mother would have wanted," Jon said. "I... I am going to act like I don't know a thing about all this. As far as I'm concerned, I'm Jon Snow the bastard, not Jaehaerys Targaryen the rightful king of Westeros." Ned nodded and embraced him.

"I will support you no matter your decision," he mumbled. "Now go on back to bed; I'm sure Robb is up and worrying about you." Jon knew he would be, so he headed right back to their chambers. Sure enough, Robb was sitting up in bed, staring at the door expectantly and sighing when Jon entered.

"I was getting worried," he sighed. "What did father have to say?" Jon removed his dressing robe and moved to his side of the bed, slipping smoothly under the covers and turning to face Robb. Jon imagined he could tell Robb the truth; Robb wouldn't want to murder him in his bed or anything just because he's a Targaryen. 

"I... He told me about my mother," Jon replied. "And about... about my father." Robb looked confused and Jon continued to talk. "Father isn't my birth father, Robb. My real father is... is Rhaegar Targaryen. And my mother is Lyanna Stark. Father took me in when he came to try and bring Lyanna home; she had given birth and... and she wasn't going to make it, I guess." Jon felt slightly guilty about that; not only was he born of conflict, but he also had killed his mother trying to come into the world. 

"You're... You're kidding, right? Jon, if you're Rhaegar Targaryen's son, you have a claim to the Iron Throne! You could fight the Baratheons and take back your birthright!" Robb's eyes shone with youthful enthusiasm for the glories of war; Jon was far more wary.

"Even if Robert was killed, he still has two sons, and his two brothers," he reminded. "I would have to lead the north and destroy an entire ancient house. It's not practical, Robb. I don't even want the Iron Throne; it would not have been mine if the war hadn't happened. My father would likely be sitting on the throne now, and then Aegon would after him. I would be a little princeling." But something about Robb's enthusiasm made a small part of Jon excited and think about going to war.

"Then we just need a better opportunity," Robb surmised. "If you want the throne, maybe we don't have to go to war and destroy all the Baratheons. Maybe we just need to play the game..."

~~~~~

Amelie felt uncomfortable. She had felt uncomfortable since the morning when she had woke up to find herself laying in her own blood. At first, she had thought Joffrey had finally had enough of her and had stabbed her, but as she sat up, she felt a small trickle of blood from in between her legs. Her handmaidens had cleaned her up and changed her bedclothes, then dressed her with an unbelievably disagreeable undergarment that held a cotton clout in place to absorb the blood. They also dressed her in red, citing that it could hide any stains better than any other color. By the time she was dressed for the day, Amelie wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep until her blood was done. She was then summoned to the queen's solar, where Cersei was waiting for her with a small smile.

"Ah, my darling come here," Cersei put down her wine glass and opened her arms to her. "You're finally a woman now." Amelie embraced her tensely then sat in one of the stiff chairs opposite Cersei; she wanted to die, but first she was going to kill the handmaiden who had told the queen she had finally had her blood.

"Yes, I fear I am," Amelie replied softly. Though as she looked down at her chest with a frown; she knew she didn't look like a woman yet. Other girls had made fun of her for being so small and delicate, but the queen assured her she would have a womanly figure soon enough.

"And do you know what that means?" Cersei raised a brow and refilled her wine glass before pouring one for Amelie. "It's time for us to find a husband for you. You won't be married for another year or so yet, of course, but it's never too early to start looking. I have two promising matches for you; Loras Tyrell of Highgarden and Robb Stark of Winterfell."

Amelie wanted to refuse both; she didn't want to be married to Loras who everyone knew liked men, nor did she want to be freezing in Winterfell every year with a cold northern husband. Amelie wished there was a Dornish prince her age, or--though she would never tell Cersei--that there was a Targaryen left that she could marry. She loved the old stories about the chivalrous princes of House Targaryen; Rhaegar was her favorite, in fact, because of his harp playing. Jaime and Ser Barristan Selmy loved to tell stories about him when they didn't have to serve the king, and Amelie was always ready to listen to them. 

"Well? Where has your mind wandered, Amelie?" Cersei looked at her expectantly. She knew that Jaime liked to tell her stories about Rhaegar, and she hoped the girl wasn't daydreaming about a husband like that. 

"Just... Why must I choose a man I have never met?" she asked. "Why can't I wait a year or two, then go and meet both of them? If I am to spend the rest of my life with either one of them, I would like to know them..." Cersei was amused by her request; Amelie was so naive and still believed in true love, and it showed. "Surely you had interacted with the king many times before you married him? At tourneys and feasts?" 

"I did, yes," Cersei said as she brought her drink to her lips. "Very well then; we will wait a year or two for you to choose a husband, but you must choose. I do not want to send a Lannister off to the Silent Sisters." If all else failed, Cersei could marry her to Lancel Lannister. Then Amelie would get to stay in the capital and remain under her thumb. 

"I understand," Amelie told her. "May I write to the young lords to try and get to know them before meeting?"

"You're asking too much," Cersei snorted. "They're men, Amelie dear. They want one thing and one thing only from their brides, and it's what's right between your legs. You'd best learn how to use your femininity to your advantage; it will be the only way you can get what you want." Amelie blushed at what the queen was implying; surely she wasn't suggesting she sleep around?

"But lords like it when their wives are maidens when they marry," Amelie mumbled. "And during the bedding ceremony, he would know if you..." She trailed off, blushing at the thought. Other young women giggled about bedding ceremonies and kissing boys, but Amelie was shy--she didn't like to talk about such things. 

"The truth of the matter, my sweet, is that most men don't care as long as they get their pleasure," Cersei managed a small smile for her. "So the best you can do is try and make sure you get yours too. I will have Lord Baelish send a girl from his... establishment if you want. She can answer all your questions and help you learn what you must know." Amelie felt a little queasy at the thought; everyone knew that Lord Baelish was a brothel keeper. 

"Please, your grace, it would not be necessary," she said weakly. "I... Whatever I need to learn I'm sure my husband can teach me. If my lord husband is patient and kind, I'm sure in time we both would grow to enjoy the marriage bed." Cersei rolled her eyes.

"You are as naive and foolish as a child sometimes, Amelie. You are a Lannister. Lannisters play the great game better than anyone else, and it's time you learned. I will have a girl brought for you, and you will learn from her. Then a year from now you will start to think about what young lordling you'd like to marry. Am I clear?" Amelie knew better than to argue with her; it would get her absolutely nowhere. So she rose to her feet and smoothed the front of her skirt.

"Perfectly clear, your grace. Good day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to look up Medieval menstration for that last bit; obviously not an expert or anything. Expect next chapter sometime next week; everyone will be around 16/17 as I am going off show ages and not book ages.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert Baratheon rides North. Jon questions the way things are. Robb tries to keep his brother at bay, and meets the young lady the queen intends for him to marry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Jon and Robb get frisky in this chapter, but unlike in canon they know that they're cousins and... I mean, Joanna and Tywin were first cousins? In Westeros that's like no big deal so the only "bad" thing they're doing is the fact that it's guy-on-guy? Either way Renly and Loras approve.   
> Also, I am a big fan of the "something is hidden in Lyanna's crypt" theory. You get to see what I think is down there.

The Starks fell into a routine until a message from King's Landing threw that routine for a loop. It came just days after Jon's seventeenth nameday; Jon Arryn was dead, and Robert was riding north. Ned Stark knew he had to figure out how to hide Jon from his old friend; just one look at him and Robert would know that Jon was not his bastard. He consulted Luwin every night, but they never could come up with a good solution to their problem. As the day of Robert's arrival drew nearer and nearer, Ned was losing sleep and they still hadn't reached a decision on what to do about Jon. He had sworn to Lyanna to protect him from the very man that was just hours from arriving in his courtyard; never had his promise been tested so extremely. 

"I just don't know what to do," Ned sighed to Catelyn one night as he paced back and forth at the foot of their bed. "I could send him away, but that seems suspicious. If we keep him here, even if Robert is too drunk the whole time to realize that Jon is Rhaegar's son, there's no guarantee the queen or her brother won't recognize a Targaryen when they see one!" _Let alone one who acts just like his father_ , he thought. Jon had proven to have quite the melancholy streak as he grew up; he had always been a serious boy for the most part, but he was brooding and quiet most days. Ned had never wanted Jon to be like that, but considering most of their household still considered him a bastard he knew that part of his melancholy had to come from carrying the weight of his true identity on his shoulders. 

"What if we dyed his hair?" Catelyn offered. "That silver hair... it should take a simple brown or black dye without any issue. He will keep it in for the length of Robert's stay, then it can be washed out." Ned felt like an idiot; he and Luwin hadn't even thought about dye. He kissed Catelyn and climbed back into bed next to her.

"I am so glad I married a brilliant woman," he chuckled. "I just worry about him, Cat... He's not the happy little boy he once was..." Catelyn was aware of the changes Jon had gone through; she worried about him. The only member of their house he seemed happy around these days was Robb, and everyone wondered what was going on between the two boys.

"I worry about him too, Ned," she nestled up against him and Ned wrapped his arms around her. "It seems like Robb is the only one that can reach out to him... but you don't need to worry anymore. Rest. I'm sure it will be an exhausting few days with Robert here..." 

Ned was already certain about that; even if he didn't have to deal with the Jon "situation" Ned knew he would be worn out by the time the royal court left. 

"I will try," Ned said as Catelyn began to drift off. He watched her sleep, thinking about the circumstances of how he had become her husband; his own nephew's paternal grandfather had cackled like the madman he was while the young man Cat had been betrothed to strangled himself to death as his father was burnt alive. The gods worked in strange and cruel ways, he decided; if the gods were merciful... well, he wouldn't be raising his sister's son. 

As soon as Ned was sure Catelyn was asleep, he slipped out of bed and quietly dressed before making his way down to the crypts. He found himself standing in front of Lyanna's tomb as he often did anymore, and stared long and hard and the cold stone likeness of his sister. There was so much he wished he could say to her, and so much that he wished he could have heard from her. Ned thought about the contents of the tomb, and about bringing her home. 

"I... I could fail you, Lya," he murmured. "These next few days... weeks... will be the most difficult I'll face these past seventeen years... I don't want to fail you. I want to put a sword in his hand and tell him to fight back, but... he's just a boy. Cat and I will try to hide his identity from Robert, but should we fail... I fear the seven kingdoms will be at war again. I wish you were here; Jon needs his mother, Lya... I... I know you're gone but... you need to watch over him. If I must, I will give him what Rhaegar left him; he will need support to his claim if worse comes to worst." Ned jumped as he heard a rustle toward the top of the stairs, and he was surprised to find Jon carrying a candle to light his way down to the crypts. 

"Father?" he asked softly, still refusing to call him "uncle" even when I'm private. "What are you doing down here so late?" Ned moved toward him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I could ask you the same," Ned smiled slightly. "You ought to go back to bed; it will be a busy morning, and there will be a lot to accomplish before the king arrives." He followed Jon's gaze to Lyanna's statue and sighed. "I... I came down here to tell her about you."

"That's why I come down here," Jon mumbled. "I... I sit and talk to her. I tell her about my day, about the family... about how much I wish she was here..." 

"I wish she was here too," Ned sighed. "It wasn't fair that your mother was taken from you so soon. But I am glad, honored even, that I have gotten to be your father. Now come; it's far too cold down here and we both need to rest if we are to survive tomorrow." Jon nodded and allowed himself to be steered back into the castle. 

~~~~~

"Where were you?" Robb was sitting up in bed, his auburn curls ruffled from tossing and turning. He was so used to sleeping with Jon beside him that he didn't know what to do when he wasn't there. 

"I went down to the crypts," Jon replied softly as he undressed then climbed into bed. Circumstances had changed, and the two both now slept in the nude. "Father was down there, by my mother's tomb... I didn't get to say all I wanted to her, but I suppose that's fine. As long as I don't get caught talking to her while the king is here, I suppose I'll be fine." Robb chuckled and turned to face Jon, whose hands were already wandering down Robb's chest. 

"I was wondering if that's where you went," Robb chuckled. "And I don't think I have to wonder about where your hand is going..." Sure enough, Jon had wrapped his hand around Robb's cock, running it up and down his length until it was hard and throbbing. 

"Turn around," Jon ordered gruffly. He didn't like it when Robb messed around and tried to avoid getting to the best part. He released Robb's member from his grasp for a split second, only to reach for his nightstand to try and find the small bottle of oil that he used for these... situations. Jon was just as hard as Robb was, and the fact that Robb was purposefully grinding his ass up against him was not helping the situation one bit. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" Robb asked innocently, throwing a playful grin over his shoulder at Jon. "You're no fun now that you're the one doing the fucking." Jon ignored his comment, grinning in triumph when he finally found the small vial, rubbing a generous amount onto his cock, then around Robb's ass. Jon teased him with just the tip of his cock before easing his entire length into him; Robb took every inch without even being phased, moaning only softly when Jon had finally penetrated him. 

They both knew what they were doing was so, SO wrong, and they knew that the gods were likely damning them to the lowest levels of the seven hells, but it felt so good to be with each other in that way. 

"Fuck," Robb groaned as he pressed himself back up against Jon who was thrusting steadily into him. "Fuck, Snow, I... I'm clo--" Robb moaned and found his release, cumming quickly. Jon followed soon after, spilling his seed inside him. Jon pulled out of him and rolled onto his back, his chest rising and falling steadily. Robb turned around and looked at him, chuckling at Jon. "Sleep, Snow. If the king does arrive tomorrow, it's sure to be a long day." He kissed Jon tenderly, then pulled away, drifting peacefully off to sleep. 

Jon watched him sleep with a small smile on his face; Robb always looked so much younger when he was sleeping. It seemed so strange that they had been together in such a way for only a year or so; it had started when Robb had walked in on Jon trying to get himself off and things had progressed from there. He was sure if anyone found out they would be separated and wouldn't be allowed to spend time together, so they had to be very discreet. 

As soon as Jon was sure Robb was asleep, he got dressed and made his way back down to the crypts to speak to his mother. The statue was the first in the row, next to the empty tombs that would someday hold his father and siblings. 

"The... The king is coming tomorrow, mother," Jon sat down on the cold floor in front of Lyanna's statue. "You were supposed to marry him, I know... It's strange to think that he could have been my father. I think father is worried; I know it will be hard for him to hide me from Robert... He says I look just like Rhaegar." He looked long and hard at the worn stone face, and tried to find any traces of his own in it. He failed, as usual, to find his own look in her. "I want to be brave, mother, but... but I'm not. I don't want anything to happen; I don't want there to be a war, I don't want to lose my head... And... And they're bringing a Lannister girl up to meet Robb." Jon had seen the letter on his father's desk the day before; Amelie Lannister was being brought to Winterfell with the rest of the royal party to meet Robb in hope that they would get along and a betrothal would occur. That was what scared Jon the most. 

A cool wind whipped through the crypts and rustled Jon's hair; he liked to think that was his mother trying to comfort him, and smiled slightly. He rose back to his feet and stood before the statue, the corner of his lips twitching slightly in a half-smile. "Thank you, mother," he was about to leave when a soft glinting from behind the statue caught his eye. Jon stopped in his tracks and looked back at the great ossuary that held his mother's bones. Angled just so that it was hidden behind the candles that burned atop the bone box was some hidden object that Jon had never noticed before.

Moving cautiously around his mother's statue, Jon reached for the glinting object, removing the item from where it was wedged between the ossuary and the wall. And when Jon found it he knew what it was almost immediately. 

He was holding the lost crown of Aegon the Conqueror in his hands. How had it come to rest in the crypts of Winterfell? Jon supposed his father had to have found it, or perhaps Arthur Dayne had gotten his hands on it and given it to Rhaegar. Maybe it had been part of Elia Martell's dowry. Either way, it was now in his possession, and Jon was sure it was not an accident.

~

"You've got to hide that thing," Robb said when he woke up to find Jon sitting in front of a mirror, staring at his reflection as a plain band of Valyrian steel sat upon his head with red rubies inlaid in it. Robb knew exactly what it was, and as much as it was amazing to see Jon looking so much like a proper king, he knew it was a bad idea for the crown to be out with Robert Baratheon merely hours away from Winterfell. 

"What if I don't want to?" Jon raised a brow at him and turned. "My mother and father wanted me to have this for a reason. They knew that someday I would have the chance to take my throne back. And now I do--"

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Robb climbed out of bed and tugged on the trousers he had laid out the night before. "You don't even care about the Iron Throne; you've said it yourself a thousand times! But now that you have a circle of Valyrian steel you think you want to be king? Do you know how crazy that sounds?" Jon sighed and rose to his feet, placing a hand on Robb's shoulder.

"It doesn't make sense now, but it will. I promise," he said. Sansa knocked on the door and saw herself in, unfazed by Robb's half-dressed state. Robb was embarrassed though and threw his clothes on quickly, making sure he was reasonably presentable for when they met the king. 

"I... I came to dye Jon's hair," Sansa said. "Father's orders."

"That won't be necessary, Sansa," Jon told her as he rose to his feet. "As King Robert will no longer have any power here because I am the rightful king of Westeros." 

"Rightful king or not father said, so you sit down and put your head back so we can hide those silver curls," Sansa rolled her eyes; her assertiveness surprised both Jon and Robb, and Jon did as she said, placing the crown down on the table as he sat back down and tilted his head back. By the time Sansa was through, Jon's silver hair was hidden beneath an inky black dye; his only Targaryen traits now were his eyes, but they were so dark that day that they weren't so much indigo as they were black. "You look like father," Sansa giggled, and Jon had to agree. He looked very much like a Stark. 

Horns began to sound in the distance and they all scrambled off in different directions to finish their preparations for the royal arrival. Jon glanced once more at Aegon's crown before stuffing it in a drawer, hiding it beneath some old tunics. Robb followed him out of their room, heading toward the courtyard. Father had told him about the Lannister girl that was being brought to meet him, and he had to admit he was rather curious about her; they always said that there was no such thing as an ugly Lannister--at least, the Lannisters Tywin liked to talk about were all attractive. Everyone ignored The Imp. 

"Are you nervous?" he asked Jon as they reached the courtyard. Other members of the Stark household had already begun to gather there, and everyone seemed cautious. 

"Yes," Jon found his hands were trembling slightly at his sides, so he balled them up into tight fists. Robb nodded and looked around at everyone; they made their way over to where Theon was standing.

"Good. It means you're not an idiot," he stated bluntly before their father appeared. Ned took one look at Jon and he was startled to find his sister staring right back at him. He looked strangely like Lyanna now that his hair was dark, and Ned felt a knot form in his stomach. They had solved one problem only to create another; while Jon no longer looked like Rhaegar, he now was the spitting image of Robert's beloved Lyanna. Ned prayed to the old gods and the new that time and wine had dampened Robert's memory of his sister.

"The dye worked," he strode up to Jon. "Good. You look like a Stark." Jon nodded.

"Robb said the same thing; said I look like you now. I suppose that's a good thing since I am 'your bastard.'" Both men laughed at the thought and horns sounded again. Hasty rows were formed and Jon stood in the second row next to Theon--it was considered an insult to the royal family if they were received with the bastard standing with House Stark, even though Jon had stood at Robb's side to receive northern families many times before. 

"I for one," Theon whispered to him, "can't wait to see what fine southern maidens are accompanying the queen and Lady Amelie. They say the queen is still a rare beauty for her age, and that Lady Amelie is a sleek bit of minx. Shame that the queen is accounted for and that Lady Amelie soon will be. From what I hear, Robb would be a fool to let her slip through his fingers. She's got all the knights and lords of King's Landing wrapped around her fingers, from what I understand. Wouldn't mind getting myself a slice of her pie, if you know what I mean."

Jon knew exactly what he meant and rolled his eyes. "Just keep your cock in your trousers, Greyjoy," he smirked. "Unless you want King Robert and Tywin Lannister to ensure that Lord Balon Greyjoy has no more male heirs." He knew he struck a nerve, but Jon didn't like it when Theon spoke about young women that way; they were just objects for pleasure in his mind, not living beings with opinions and feelings. 

"Like you're one to talk," Theon scoffed. "King Robert would knock your chest in with his war hammer if he saw those bouncing silver curls of yours." Ned Stark ordered them to hush just as the king rode in and they all dropped to their knees.

~~~~~

"I was reading the most interesting thing in this book about the Targaryen curse," Amelie whispered to her handmaiden Jayla Warrin, who was actually the whore Cersei had hired to teach her the art of pleasure. "About how they used to take mates; it was all based on whose blood called to them the most--that smelling their mate for the first time was even better than the sweetest perfume or smelling hot lemon or honey cakes fresh from the ovens... When they smell them, they will stop at nothing until they've tasted them. But the thing is, sometimes they would be attracted to more than one person. That's why all the Targaryen kings of old--"

"Enough about House Targaryen," Cersei hissed from the other side of the wheelhouse. "House Targaryen is dead. And if my kingly husband heard you speaking of such things... well, I don't think you would enjoy the punishment." Amelie hushed immediately, still obedient to her queen.

"Yes, your grace," she mumbled. Jayla shot her a knowing look; she would listen to her stories later when they were finally alone and were supposed to be practicing lovemaking. The wheelhouse came to a halt and the door was opened; Cersei led the way out with Tommen and Myrcella, followed by Amelie and lastly Jayla. "Gods it's cold..." Amelie pulled her furs closer; although Cersei now loathed her, she made sure that Amelie was still dressed as a Lannister ought to be, as was evident by her pure white fur cloak. 

"I agree," Jayla mumbled. "It is far too cold for comfort; though I must say they do know how to breed them in the south... Look there; the young man with auburn hair... that must be Robb Stark. The sandy haired youth in the back must be Theon Greyjoy, and next to him... why, that must be Ned Stark's bastard, Jon Snow. My, what fine eyes!" Amelie giggled and blushed. 

"They're all so handsome," she murmured. The king turned from his conversation with Ned Stark and waved her over. Amelie frowned and smoothed the skirt of her Lannister red gown before making her way over to where the two men were waiting.

"This is my cousin by law, Amelie Lannister," Robert grumbled in his great gruff voice. "Amelie, this is Lord Eddard Stark, and this strapping young man next to him is his son and heir, Robb." Amelie suddenly felt tongue-tied; the Stark boy had the bluest eyes she had ever seen in her entire life, and she could have drowned in them. Her face grew hot once more and she curtsied hastily. 

"It is an honor to meet you, Lord Stark, Lord Robb," she said softly. When she looked up, she caught the eye of Jon Snow; the bastard was staring at her intently with a hint of confusion, evident by the way his brow had wrinkled. Robb exchanged niceties with her before Clara was swept off to the guest keep by a servant with Jayla once again in tow. The two girls were rooming right next to each other, and both were pleased to find that fires had already been lit in the fireplaces of their chambers. 

"If there's anything you need, my lady, do not hesitate to ask," the servant smiled before bowing slightly and dismissing herself. Jayla soon came to Amelie's chambers to review what she had seen. Amelie had made herself comfortable on the bed, lounging around rather casually. 

"The Stark boy, the one Cersei wishes for you to marry, he's very handsome and would make a fine husband," Jayla decided. "Theon Greyjoy seems rather devilish, so I think I know where I will have my fun for the next fortnight... and the bastard..."

"Did you see the way he was staring at me?" Amelie interjected. "It was like he had never seen a girl before in his entire life! It... It was chilling, really; his eyes were so dark they were almost black..." But he was handsome, almost in a southern way. Amelie wondered if his mother had been Ashara Dayne like everyone whispered; his indigo eyes would make sense then. 

"I know!" Jayla exclaimed. "He looked at you like he knows what you look like without your smallclothes on! I didn't like it, Amelie. No bastard should ever look at a highborn girl like that. He has bad intentions; you best steer clear of that one." She looked around the room and her eyes landed on Amelie's trunk. "Now, let's get you out of that traveling gown and see what you should wear for supper; no doubt Robb Stark will be escorting you this evening..." Both girls erupted into fits of giggles and Jayla helped Amelie out of her gown and went to open the trunk. Amelie caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and smiled slightly; she had finally developed the womanly figure she had always wanted--supple, pouting breasts, a tiny waist, and proper childbearing hips that would make her a desirable wife for any young lord. Jayla caught her admiring herself and chuckled. "Lord Robb would be lucky to have you in his bed, Amelie. Any man would. Especially that bastard, Jon Snow."

"Thankfully I will never be in the bastard's bed," Amelie chuckled as Jayla pulled out a gold silk gown. "If I get along with Lord Robb this evening, I will become the future Lady of Winterfell, and Jon Snow will be my half-brother by law, and if he dared to try anything Lord Eddard would send him to The Wall without a moment's hesitation." She hoped.

"I'm surprised he hasn't already chosen to go," Jayla hummed. "The north views taking the black as far more honorable than the south does. But like I said, do not worry about Jon Snow. Your biggest worry is impressing Lord and Lady Stark and Lord Robb tonight. And I know you will, so I will not worry, and neither should you." She kissed Amelie softly and the girl blushed before getting ready for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still going to be aiming for Sunday updates in general; there may be some earlier but I'll try to fall into a routine. Thank you everyone for all your kudos/comments/bookmarks so far!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great feast forKing Robert occurs. Jon gets drunk, Robb likes Amelie, and Amelie makes the mistake of wandering through the courtyard in the middle of the night, alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I had decided, here is a Sunday update! I hope you all enjoy, and I apologize for Jon--I got him a little OOC but we've never really seen him d-runk before!

The great hall was filled to the brim with merrymakers. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and game of all kinds, sweet summer wine and hearty northern ale. The servants and commonfolk in attendance sat below the highborn families. Among them were Jon and Theon Greyjoy who were sitting at one of the lower tables away from the royal family and the Starks. Jon could smell the pretty little blonde that Robb had escorted into the hall from across the room and he couldn't look away from her. She smelled like the most fragrant flower Jon had ever smelled, or like fresh lemon cakes. He couldn't stop thinking about sinking his teeth into her pale, slender neck... and then fucking her senseless. He didn't know where that idea came from, but he liked the thought of sending a little Lannister girl back to King's Landing with his bastard in her belly. And the way the soft candlelight made her hair shine just so, and how her golden silk gown complemented her complexion... she was like a vision. Theon noticed the focus of Jon's gaze as he drained another mug of ale and sighed; he had never seen Jon so lovesick, and he felt terrible that he was head-over-heels for a Lannister of all people. 

"Staring at her isn't going to get her down here under the table with your cock in her mouth," Theon snorted; even though he felt bad for him he wasn't going to give up an opportunity to tease him. It was so rare that Jon showed any interest in girls, and Theon intended to savor every minute. Jon scowled at him; it was an intense scowl and unlike any expression Theon had ever seen from him. "Seven hells, what has gotten into you? Do you need to feed?" Theon had become a hunting companion the past few years or so and knew the signs when Jon needed to feed. He did get grumpy at times when he needed to, but not like this. 

"No, I need her," he snarled. It was all he could think about, and watching Robb make small talk with her and seeing how she blushed at whatever compliments he paid her only made his blood boil more. All the girls loved Robb, and it made Jon angry. They all wanted the attentions of the future Lord of Winterfell; they couldn't care less about Ned Stark's bastard. Theon rolled his eyes at him; he knew that Jon was jealous of Robb.

"You know you can't have her, Jon. As far as she is concerned, you're just a bastard. Robb's the one she wants; just look at her," Theon watched as Amelie giggled once more at something Robb had said, placing a hand on his arm. Jon nearly growled at the sight and nearly rose to his feet only to be forced back down by Theon. "What are you thinking? You can't just storm up to her and demand she suck you off or climb into your bed! If... If you're going to try and bed a highborn girl who you technically are more than worthy of... You've got to let her come to you."

"Let her come to me?" Jon chuckled. "Alright, we'll see how that goes." He flashed a small grin at Theon and his gaze returned to Amelie, focusing on her, trying to see if he could seduce her into coming down to the lower tables. Her green eyes met his indigo and he felt the electricity in the air, and felt it fade as soon as she turned away, leaving Jon staring at her golden curls. He wondered if she had felt the same way he had. (He also wondered if the hair of her mound was just as blonde...)

"Seven hells, I think she actually wants you," Theon teased before taking a enormous bite out of the leg of honeyed chicken on his platter. "I'd get between those milky white thighs before Robb does or else she won't be able to think about anyone else." Jon nearly laughed; Theon didn't know this of course, but Jon actually had the bigger cock out of the two of them. Amelie's gaze kept flitting back to him and Jon noticed her cheeks turn redder and redder. His fangs were threatening to extend at the sight of her blush, but Jon kept himself in check.

"I'll see how this plays out," Jon sat back in his chair and drained his mug of ale. He could feel his head starting to swim from all the drink, and the more it swam the more he thought about her. "Pass me that jug, Greyjoy." Theon did as he was told, bowing mockingly to him. Jon rolled his eyes at him and filled his mug once more, bringing the frothing drink back to his lips. He had never been so drunk in his life, but he had a man's thirst he found and he wanted to quench it.

Jon watched as Arya flung a spoonful of some sort of squash or potato dish across the table at Sansa; the mushy substance splattered all over the older girl's dress. She gave a shout, and Robb sniggered, though he got up and led Arya out of the hall to bed as soon as he made eye contact with his mother. Amelie watched him go with a slight blush; she drank deeply from her mug and rose to her feet. Jon observed quietly as she slipped out of the great hall. This was his chance; he could follow her out into the courtyard and make his move then and there. 

No one even noticed when he rose to his feet and silently slipped out of the great hall after Amelie; not even the queen, who had been watching her closely all evening. It was too perfect, and when Jon laid eyes on her moving quietly through the courtyard toward the guest keep he finally allowed his fangs to extend as he approached. 

~~~~~

Amelie couldn't believe what a wonderful night she was having; Robb Stark was a perfect gentleman and unbelievably handsome. She could already imagine being his wife, bearing his children--rough-and-tumble little redheaded boys with big blue eyes, she hoped--and someday being Lady of Winterfell. If it had been up to her, she would have remained at the feast until the first light of dawn just to be with him, but Cersei had advised her to go to bed early that night to get her "beauty sleep." She wished she had the nerve to refuse, but Amelie didn't want to imagine the consequences. Besides, she would have the chance to see Robb in the morning. 

The air was crisp and invigorating, quite unlike the heavy humidity that surrounded King's Landing; the coolness brought color to her cheeks and took her breath away. Amelie loved it; she felt like she could see the stars better in the north as well. They shined above her so brightly that she was sure that only the gods could command such a display. She lingered only for a moment, as her arms were riddled with goose-pimples; she needed to get inside to her chambers soon or she could come down with something. Her golden silk gown, while pretty, was not good at keeping the cold out and was highly impractical for northern weather. She wished Cersei would have had a woolen gown or two made for her, but she had refused such a notion when Amelie had proposed it; she was from the south and she was going to wear silk. It almost seemed cruel to Amelie; it wasn't as if Cersei didn't know how cold it was near Winterfell.

But what she really needed was a nice warm fire, and maybe a cup of tea, so Amelie started for the guest keep once more only to be distracted by a raven cawing from the battlements; it startled her with its shrill calls and she jumped rather high in the air. 

"My lady, are you alright?" a low, gentle voice inquired. It was definitely a northman, but it was not Robb. Amelie turned around sharply to find Lord Stark's bastard, Jon Snow, standing merely a few paces away from her. Amelie blushed; she thought him just as handsome as Robb, if not handsomer, but due to his... position in the world it was extremely unacceptable for her to voice such an opinion. She could only imagine what Cersei would say if she did.

"The... The raven simply frightened me, Lord Snow," she said softly. "I... I suppose being in a new place, and unused to my surroundings makes me more nervous than I am at home..." He was staring at her intensely, and Amelie could only think of running into his arms and pressing her lips against his; she didn't know where this intense interest was coming from, but she didn't necessarily dislike it... Jayla had talked about how men ought to look at women before, and while she said she didn't like a man gazing at her like she was his property, Amelie found it rather flattering to know a man wanted her so much to openly leer at her. Jayla said that was more than likely the "Lannister" in her; they all loved to be the center of attention, after all. 

"I understand," the corner of his mouth tugged upwards in a brief smile. "You know, the moonlight... it captures your beauty very well, Lady Amelie. Not that you really need the moon's help..." He took one step toward her, and Amelie surprised herself when she didn't take a step backward to counter the almost predatory approach he made. That was what his stare reminded her of too; a predator watching its prey before striking. 

"Th-Thank you," she stuttered. "Now, I must... I must go; I need to go to bed early if I am to have any hopes of looking presentable in the morning. It has been a long day after all; good morrow, Lord Snow..." Amelie quickly turned away and retreated toward the guest keep; she could still feel his eyes on her, and it made her tremble in excitement. If only he was Lord Stark's trueborn son; Amelie might have invited him up to her chambers.

What happened next occurred so quickly that Amelie couldn't react; Jon Snow was behind her just as she reached for the doors of the guest keep. His hand clamped over her mouth to keep her from screaming, and before Amelie could protest he had sunk his teeth into her neck. It burned, and she felt lightheaded as her blood left her body; Jon held her against him even as her small frame began to grow weak. Just before Amelie thought she was going to pass out Jon stopped and helped her support herself against the doors. 

"How do you feel?" he asked her. Amelie could only whimper in response, and Jon frowned. She watched with hazy eyes as he punctured his own finger with his... fangs... before offering the freely bleeding appendage to her. "Drink. You'll feel better." 

Amelie stared at him like he was mad, but her knees were threatening to give out from under her so she didn't feel like she had any other choice. With extreme caution, she took his finger and stuck it in her mouth, sucking the blood from it until her vision cleared. His blood tasted sweet, like the honey cakes she so loved, and Amelie moaned when he took away his finger. 

"Now how do you feel?" Jon inquired. Amelie had to gather her thoughts before looking up at him. When she did, she felt like she had just been hit by a lightning bolt; her whole body felt warm and she felt a familiar dampness between her thighs that she always felt when she wanted to fuck. Amelie didn't even bother to answer Jon's question; she threw herself at him and kissed him hard on the lips, tugging him into the guest keep and up to her chambers.

~~~~~

Jon let Amelie lead him up to her chambers, somehow managing to evade any guards or members of the royal party. As soon as they reached her chambers he was unlacing the back of her dress, pushing it down eagerly as the worked at the laces of his trousers. Jon had never been with a woman before, so he was sort of nervous--he thought about everything Theon and Robb had told him, but between all the drink and Amelie stroking his length he was finding it hard to concentrate. He ripped her shift from her body, tossing the flimsy linen aside as they fumbled back onto the bed. Jon pulled away for a moment to admire her, and was taken aback when he found her mound completely void of hair.

"What...?" he mumbled, and Amelie blushed slightly.

"A trend from Essos," she explained. "They believe that body hair is unsightly; a lack of it is a sign of wealth over there." Jon touched the smooth, sensitive skin and made her shiver.

"I think the people of Essos are onto something," he smirked. 

"I want you," Amelie breathed in Jon's ear before nibbling on the lobe. "I want you so bad..." Her lips trailed down from his ear to his neck where she sucked hard at the sensitive skin found there, not caring if she left small love marks. Jon's jaw was slack as her mouth ghosted over his chest, down his torso stopping just shy of his hip bone before coming back up with a coy grin. 

"Tease," Jon growled, nipping at her bottom lip. "I ought to spank you for doing such a thing..." Amelie raised a brow at the threat and wriggled beneath him.

"Do you want to?" she asked with a giggle. Jon was almost taken aback by her words, and if it was even possible for him to get harder he was sure he was. "Because if you want to I won't stop you." He wasn't going to refuse that, so he climbed off of her and moved to the plain wooden chair in her room. He pointed to his knee, his eyebrows raised amusedly and Amelie smirked, willingly laying across his lap. 

Jon rubbed her ass tenderly, admiring the soft, fair skin he found there. Amelie hummed softly as he touched her, though she was anticipating the first smack. And just as she thought it was coming, Jon's hand landed sharply against her ass. Amelie yelped softly in surprise, and Jon admired the way her round bum trembled slightly at the contact. He repeated the process three or four more times until her behind was as red as a rose; he didn't intend to hurt her or anything, but he did want to have a bit of fun. Amelie was more than happy to go back to the bed, and they began to kiss and touch once more with urgency. Jon couldn't bear to wait any longer, and positioned the tip of his cock at her cunt, teasing her slick folds. Amelie begged and writhed beneath him, wrapping her legs around his hips. 

"Please," she breathed. "Please... I need you in me..." She knew this was wrong--Cersei promised all her potential suitors that she was in fact a maiden and that her maidenhead was intact--but there was something about him... it was like they had made this connection out there in the courtyard that needed to be followed through on. 

Jon couldn't say no to her, and slowly eased his length into her. Amelie gasped at the pressure she felt, whimpering and biting her lip. Jon could tell she was uncomfortable, so as soon as he had filled her he lingered there, waiting for her to say the word. 

"Move," Amelie gasped. "Please... Please move..." Jon did as she said and slowly began to thrust in and out of her, drawing soft whimpers and moans from her lips. "Oh... Oh Jon... Please..." Jon gripped her hips tightly, picking up his pace as he started to fuck her how he had thought about doing so in the great hall. "Jon...! Oh gods... Oh gods!" While normally mild-mannered, Jon found his ego was getting in the way and he stopped at her words.

"The gods aren't making you feel good," he murmured in her ear, his voice not much more than low rumble. "I am. You aren't going to scream for them..." Amelie shivered and whined when Jon pulled out of her. "Get on your hands and knees, Amelie." She did as he said, turning around to look at him as he remained on his knees. She knew exactly what he was going to do--she wasn't naive to how men liked to fuck--but she still felt rather clueless. Jon shoved his cock back into her dripping sex, a groan escaping his lips as he gripped her hips once more, thrusting as hard as he could. Amelie cried out, her eyes widening in surprise as one of his hands left her hips, traveling down to her swollen sensitive bud that was desperately in need of attention. This brought her over the edge, climaxing with Jon's name on her lips. He thrust thrice more into her before spilling his seed inside of her. Amelie fell down face first into her pillows, sighing as Jon pulled out of her once more. 

"Mine," he sighed as he lay down beside her, taking her into his arms. Amelie sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Her brain was swimming with his musky scent and the warmth of his body was soothing to her. "Rest, darling... I'll be right here in the morning."

"Goodnight," Amelie sighed. Her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off. Jon watched her sleep, running his hands through her curls with a small smile on his face. He didn't realize the seriousness of his actions until the following morning when the sun shined brightly through the window. Amelie rose before him, stretching and yawning before climbing out of bed and grabbing her dressing robe. Her fingers traced the bruises on her hips and the healing bite mark on her neck with a dreamy sigh. Jon woke to the sight of her, and smiled slightly at her. 

"I should probably go," he told her. "Before your handmaiden comes to get you ready for the day." He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before tugging on his clothes and slipping quietly out of the room. 

~~~~~

"And where are you sneaking back from with messy hair and last night's clothes?" Robb teased as Jon entered their room. "I have to say, Lady Amelie... she is amazing. I don't want to be the queen's puppet, but I would marry that girl in a heartbeat. That smile, those eyes... those tits, too, honestly..." Robb chuckled, but when Jon frowned at him he was concerned. "Jon... Where were you last night?" His mind was jumping to conclusions but he wouldn't say anything until Jon said something.

"I... I was with Lady Amelie," he admitted. "Robb, please don't be mad, but I think I've made a serious mistake..." Robb felt his teeth grit and he was trying his best not to change; as much as he had control over his family's gift he could lose control sometimes.

"I'd say you have," he hissed. "Jon, every single member of the royal court thinks you are nothing more than my father's bastard. If you had got caught, I don't even want to know what would have happened to you!" _And she was supposed to be mine_ , Robb thought bitterly. He couldn't believe Jon had decided that the first girl he fucked was the girl Robb wanted to marry.

"No, I mean I've really made a big mistake. I... Remember what Maester Luwin said about Targaryens claiming mates?" Robb nodded, and then his blood ran cold. "I... I think I might have claimed Lady Amelie as mine..." 

"We need to tell father. NOW," Robb stormed out of their bedchambers and straight to their father's study where, sure enough, Lord Stark was reading a message from one of the northern houses. He looked up at his son and nephew, and by their expressions alone he could tell that something was very wrong. "Jon needs to leave now, and he needs to take Lady Amelie with him." Ned had not expected the issue to include the charming girl Robb had spent the feast with, and quickly rose to his feet.

"Jon, you didn't claim her as your mate did you?" Ned asked. When Jon didn't respond he got his answer, and he thought about the best course of action to follow; he could not separate them now that they had mated, but he couldn't tell the truth about Jon's true lineage. "Robb's right; you and Amelie need to leave as soon as possible. I... I will send word to Doran Martell; you should be safe in Dorne for a while, but it would be wise for you to go across the Narrow Sea."

"There... There are other Targaryens across the Narrow Sea, are there not?" Jon asked. Ned nodded; Jon's aunt and uncle had escaped Robert's wrath thanks to a few Targaryen supporters. 

"Yes. And you would be wise to seek them out," Ned instructed. "But... if you are going to, you are going to need proof that you are your father's son. They say Viserys Targaryen is beginning to show signs of the Targaryen madness... Take Aegon's crown with you. That should help you prove your lineage since your father was the last one to have it in his possession. Viserys may not know that, but he will recognize Aegon's crown." Jon nodded; the crown was still hidden in his chest of drawers. "You and Amelie will leave at midnight tonight. Ride hard and fast; you'll want to put as much distance between the two of you and Winterfell."

"What should I tell her?" Jon asked. Ned sighed; he could see the fear and worry in Jon's eyes. 

"Tell her the truth. And... And wash the dye from your hair; there's no point in you hiding any longer. Go tell her what she needs to know, then return to your chambers and pack your things. You cannot tell anyone where you are going or what you are doing. I will have our fastest horses saddled." Jon nodded and ran off to find Amelie, who was wandering around the Godswood. She was fascinated by the old gods and the ways of the north...

"Jon!" she exclaimed when she spied him, running to him and throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, am I glad to see you..." Jon smiled painfully at her and led her over to the weirwood tree, sitting down on the great roots. 

"There... There are some things I need to tell you," he said softly. "Firstly... my name... my real name isn't Jon, Amelie. The name I was given at birth is Jaehaerys. And... And I am a Targaryen. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen, and my mother was Lyanna Stark. Do you know... Do you know what the Targaryens are? Do you know about the curse?" Amelie nodded; she almost wanted to laugh at Jon's story but he was so serious that it had to be true. "And do you realize what we did last night?" Amelie paled; they had mated last night. They were bound together thanks to the Targaryen curse...

"Then we need to leave," she mumbled. "If we stay... I will be expected to marry Robb and... and that would not be good." Jon nodded and kissed her hands.

"My father will have his fastest horses saddled and waiting for us at midnight. Pack a few things and be ready to leave. I will come for you a little bit before. Are you a good rider?" he asked. Amelie nodded.

"I take after Jaime and Lord Tywin in that aspect," she replied. "Though I fear I could struggle riding the Kingsroad as I have never--"

"We can't take the Kingsroad," Jon told her. "It's too dangerous; they will expect us to be on the main roads. Don't tell anyone where you are going either. I... I will see you tonight." Jon rose to his feet and kissed Amelie on the cheek, leaving her alone in the Godswood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historically speaking in our world, even through the medieval times the women of Greece and Turkey--the places I associate with Essos--were still removing all of their body hair as a sign of wealth! This practice goes all the way back to Ancient Egypt as a way to prevent head/body lice. 
> 
> Also, I apologize for my poor smut writing :(


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Amelie escape Winterfell with a companion, Tyrion discovers Amelie is missing, Ned tells the truth, and Sansa has a sexual awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like Jonsa I am so sorry... but since they ARE cousins and that love/hate dynamic between them is like sweet, sweet music to my shipper heart... it happened.

Midnight came faster than Jon had thought. He stared at his reflection for what seemed like eternity; the brown dye had been washed out of his curls, and they once again shone silver as a Targaryen's hair ought. Robb was sitting on the edge of their bed, watching Jon cautiously. He didn't know what to think about everything; he was worried that Jon and Amelie wouldn't get very far from Winterfell, and he didn't even want to think about what would happen to Jon if they got caught. Jon finally turned away from the mirror and grabbed the small rucksack he had packed. King Aegon's crown was nestled in the bottom, buried underneath some spare doublets and trousers. 

"Are you ready?" Robb asked softly, resting a hand on Jon's shoulder. Jon looked at him, fear filling his belly, but he knew he had to be brave for Amelie. And father had always said that the only time a man can be brave is when he's afraid. 

"I am ready as I can be," Jon sighed. "I... I will go get Amelie and then we'll be gone. I guess this is goodbye, brother." He refused to call him "cousin." Robb embraced him and they lingered, thinking of everything they had been through. He kissed him softly on the lips before pulling away. Robb didn't want to see him go, but he knew it was best for all of them if he did. 

"I will see you again someday," Robb murmured. "When you're sitting on the iron throne with that crown on your head and Amelie by your side." It was a pretty picture, and Jon would be lying if he said he hadn't imagined the same thing. 

Jon took one last look around the bedroom he and Robb had shared since childhood; he wasn't sure why, but he had a strange feeling in his gut that that moment was the last time he would see that room. He grabbed his cloak from the back of his chair and drew it close to himself before departing for Amelie's chambers. She was waiting for him, dressed in a simple black gown with a grey mink cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Jon smiled softly at her and led her out of the room. The two moved safely in the shadows to the stables where they found the fastest horses of Winterfell saddled for them. But the two stopped dead in their tracks at who was waiting for them. 

"Sansa, what are you doing down here?" Jon asked, his voice was filled with concern. "You need to be up in your rooms; if Robert or Cersei go around questioning people--"

"I'm coming with you, Jon," Sansa said. She was dressed in her best traveling clothes and had a small rucksack of her own. "Father... Father decided that he could keep you and Amelie safe if I went with you. He will have a reason to go with the Lannisters to find Amelie, and he can throw them off our scent." Jon was surprised that Sansa was willing to do such a thing; their relationship had always been icy at best. Why would Sansa want to help him now?

"Why are you doing this?" Amelie inquired, raising a brow. Jon watched as Sansa and Amelie locked eyes; Sansa blushed sweetly under the blonde's suspicious gaze.

"I have treated Jon wrongly, when I should not have. He... He is our rightful king, after all," she nodded politely to him. "I am protecting my family by helping him." It was then that Jon realized he had completely forgotten to explain the truth to Amelie. Why she hadn't reacted to his silver hair he didn't know, but she certainly seemed surprised at the fact that he was the rightful king.

"You... You are a trueborn Targaryen?" Amelie gasped. "I... I figured you were Lord Stark's bastard by Ashara Dayne... Though... Though that explains the blood cravings..." 

"I was supposed to tell you, but it just slipped my mind," Jon kissed her forehead, his lips lingering there and burning Amelie's skin. "But I am the rightful king of Westeros, as much as I don't want to be. And the longer we stay here, the more likely we are to be caught. So quickly now; choose your mounts." Sansa and Amelie both mounted and Jon did last, following the two girls out of the courtyard. The gates were open and Jon knew that his father had ordered them to be left ajar for them to escape.

As soon as they were a fair distance away from Winterfell, the three of them forced their mounts to a hard gallop. They were traveling off the Kingsroad with intentions to make it to White Harbor--from there it would be all too easy to board a galley heading to Sunspear to seek out Doran Martell and his aid. Jon was a strong rider, and didn't struggle despite the darkness and the shadows that would play tricks on one's eyes. He kept Amelie and Sansa in front of him so he wouldn't lose them in the woods. 

As the sun rose in the west, Jon decided that they were safe enough and far enough away to take a brief stop. He needed to feed, and he could tell just by looking at Sansa and Amelie that they were tired of riding so hard.

"You two take the horses down to the creek," he instructed. "I'll be around trying to find us some food. But as soon as we've eaten, we need to get a move on."

"Can't we stop to rest?" Amelie mumbled, looking at him and trying her best to pout. "It would be safer for us to all sleep during the day and ride at night..." Jon shook his head. 

"We're half a day's journey from White Harbor from what I can tell," he said as he looked around their surroundings. The woods definitely reminded him of the ones you would see when approaching White Harbor. "We can all sleep once we've bought a cabin on a ship and have left the docks." Amelie wanted to argue but she was too tired; she did as Jon instructed and took the horses down to the little creek.

~~~~~

"Where is Amelie?" Jaime asked that morning as he looked around the small hall he and his siblings were breaking their fast. "Has she not gotten out of bed?" Cersei shrugged and picked at her food; she hated the hearty, practical food of the north. She honestly couldn't care less about where Amelie was; the girl had been nothing but trouble since their arrival. 

"Do you want me to go see if she is awake?" Tyrion inquired, knowing that his sister would be glad to be rid of him. Cersei dismissed him with a wave of her hand and he made his way up to the guest chambers where he found Jayla frantically looking around for Amelie. "Jayla, where is Amelie?" The young woman shook her head and began to pace.

"She's gone," she told him. "I don't... I don't know where she's gone, Tyrion! I didn't want to tell anyone until I was sure... but she's gone."

At about the same time Ned had started his "search" for Sansa. He had told Catelyn about his plan, as well as Robb, but he hadn't told any of the younger children to keep their responses more genuine when they discovered their sister was missing. Robb then reported that Jon was missing as well, and Ned acted out his next step: telling Robert. And he was going to tell Robert everything. That was the only way that Robert would take him seriously; just the thought of Rhaegar Targaryen's son stealing away not one but two noble girls would be enough to infuriate him. 

His oldest friend was severely hungover from the night before, and seemed to be taking the hair of the dog approach that morning as Robert already had a horn of wine in his meaty hands. 

"My daughter is gone," he told him. "And so is Jon." Robert guffawed at this and Ned was not amused; it would take a lot more convincing to get him riled up it seemed. "Robert... I need you to be serious for one moment in your life. Jon... Jon is not my son, Robert. I have lied to you, and I know I shouldn't have, but... but I did what I had to do keep my family safe. He... He is the blood of my blood."

"Where are you getting with this Ned?" Robert leaned forward in interest and Ned knew he had him hooked. "Speak true now and I will forgive you for this... lie of yours."

"Jon is in truth my nephew. He... He is Lyanna's son, Robert. This might be hard for you to take, but when Rhaegar abducted her, he... he married her in the way of the old gods. As far as the north is concerned, that makes Jon a legitimate son. When I went to the Tower of Joy, she was laying in a bed of blood, but it wasn't because she was raped. She had given birth. To a son."

Robert blinked a few times and sat back as he tried to process what he had just been told. He supposed there was a part of him that had always suspected that Lyanna had not loved him--and it wasn't hard for women to fall in love with Rhaegar Targaryen... Yet he was hurt that Ned had kept the truth from him for so long. But he would have killed his oldest friend's nephew on the spot if he would have known. "You know, it's been seventeen years... and I don't even remember what she looked like," he admitted. "He would have... The Dragon Prince... You know we must go after your nephew though--"

"Lady Amelie is missing," Jaime burst in. "I don't know where she is but whoever took her left with three horses from your stables, Lord Stark. If I would be allowed to go after her--"

"We all will be going after her," Ned stated sternly. "It is more than likely that she has been taken by my nephew, who has also abducted my daughter Sansa. Gather your men and we will ride as soon as possible; no doubt they are heading south for the Neck." Jaime didn't ask any questions and made his way back to the guest keep. The suspicions he had felt after laying eyes on Ned Stark's bastard were true then it seemed; Jon Snow was actually a Targaryen. And the boy had run off with Amelie and his own cousin. A part of Jaime wanted to run and tell Cersei about what had come to pass, but then he started to think about Rhaegar. The crown prince he had known would have been a great king, and if his son was half the man he had been... Jaime knew there was no one else who should sit on the iron throne. 

"Where is she then?" Cersei asked as he came back into the guest keep. "Jaime, answer me; where is our cousin? Did that bastard boy run off with her? Leave it to Amelie to be such a fool as to think he could love her..." Jaime simply ignored her and went to gather supplies. 

The men of Winterfell and the royal party saddled their mounts and filled the courtyard, horses nickering and neighing as they waited to leave. Before long Ned Stark joined them, leaving Robb behind to run the castle in his absence. Ned rode alongside Robert, whose horse was already breathing heavily under the massive form of his rider. 

"We must recover Lady Amelie and Lady Sansa!" Ned instructed. "And if they are found, Jon is not to be harmed! He is to receive a fair and just trial for his crimes. Do you understand?" The men all shouted and yelled, and Ned gave the signal for the gates of Winterfell to be opened. 

~~~~~

Jon felt a sense of relief like he had never known before as White Harbor came into view. Amelie and Sansa were half-asleep on their horses, but he knew it wouldn't be long before they had booked passage on a galley to Sunspear. Though the more Jon thought about it, the better it seemed to just head straight for Pentos and find Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. But he had instructions from his father to go to Dorne, so that was what he was going to do. After all, his father was a wise man and he knew better than he did. 

"Just a few more minutes," he told Sansa, who smiled sleepily at him. The two of them had begun to get along during their short journey, and being stuck on a boat together would only improve their relationship Jon believed. "Then you two can rest." His words were music to Amelie's ears; she couldn't wait to be below decks on a galley, nestled up in a cozy cabin with Jon's arms wrapped around her. Amelie had always loved sailing; she considered it the one thing she had in common with her late father other than being a Lannister. 

When the three of them reached the port, they dismounted and led their horses through the city, trying to navigate to where they would find the captain of a galley. Jon left their horses with a friend of Ned Stark's, clutching the bag of silver he had with him. The first captain they found that was heading to Sunspear had a cabin available, and Jon paid him in full as soon as they were on the ship. 

Amelie made busy work of tidying the small space; most of it was dominated by a bed that was nailed into the floor to keep it from sliding about in rough waters. The three of them would have to share, she knew, and it would be interesting to see if she and Jon could keep their hands off of each other for so long. 

"Do you need to feed?" she asked Jon softly as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Sansa watched curiously as Jon nodded and Amelie offered him her pale, slender neck. Sansa understood what Jon was, but she had never seen him actually feed. 

"I could use a taste or two," Jon hummed. He sat next to Amelie, angling her body so her back was pressed against him. There was something strangely sexual about he way he held her as he sunk his fangs into her neck, drinking from her until her cheeks were pallid. It was somewhat horrifying to Sansa, but at the same time she couldn't help but wonder what it felt like. "Are you alright?" Jon nuzzled Amelie's cheek before kissing it softly. 

"I'll be fine in a moment or two," she whispered before turning her attention to the younger girl who was still watching them curiously. "Come rest, Sansa sweet. We'll be out of your way." 

"What... What does it feel like?" Sansa inquired as she moved toward the bed. Jon raised a brow at this; he was amazed that Sansa seemed fascinated with feeding. It felt wrong to admit it, but Jon had begun to pay more attention to Sansa--she was nearly a woman grown now, and while she hadn't flowered she would soon, and... and part of him thought about the fact that she was only his cousin. Cousins married cousins all the time in Westeros...

"It hurts at first," Amelie chuckled as she patted the spot next to her on the bed. "But after a while you get used to it. It's better when you're mates with the one feeding from you..." Sansa knew about Targaryens and how they took mates; part of her was jealous of Amelie for being Jon's, but she knew how irrational that was. 

"If... If you get tired of giving Jon your blood, I... I can do it," Sansa offered. "I wouldn't mind." Her eyes met Jon's and he nodded slightly to her. "In fact... can... can we try now? Just so I know what I'm getting into?" Amelie and Jon exchanged glances but agreed. Amelie scooted back on the bed and watched as her mate held Sansa like he held her. 

"Just... try to relax," Jon murmured to Sansa before he slowly sunk his fangs into her neck. A small gasp escaped her lips and she leaned back against him, grabbing his thigh as Jon drank from her. She tasted like lemon cakes, which Jon found extremely amusing. He fed until Sansa felt lightheaded, and she slumped back against him when he was through. Amelie didn't like how sickly pale the girl was, and looked to Jon. She knew that if he gave Sansa his blood that she would be his mate now too, but Amelie knew how much better she had felt after receiving it.

"Give her just a taste of yourself, Jon," she instructed. He looked at her in surprise, but did as she said, puncturing a finger and squeezing it until it bled freely. Sansa was too weak to protest his offering, and calmly tasted his blood. Sansa felt as if her whole body was on fire when she did, and when she pulled away from Jon she couldn't help but think about how handsome he was... 

"Jon..." Sansa breathed, reaching for him. Amelie watched as Jon tenderly ran his fingers through the younger girl's auburn locks, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her slowly. She was pleased when Sansa pulled away, her youthful passions subdued with just a few kisses.

Jon and Amelie looked at each other, and they both felt a familiar fire in their bellies. Sansa seemed to understand and climbed off of Jon so he could move to his first mate. She watched in quiet reverence as Jon's hands roamed around Amelie's body, whimpering softly to herself as one of his hands slipped up her skirts. Sansa had always wondered what the marriage bed was like, and now she understood. Jon and Amelie seemed lost in their own little world, and if they didn't want her watching them, they didn't say. As they undressed, Sansa felt a dull ache growing at the apex of her thighs. Only later had she realized that she was aroused, but she immediately pulled her own skirts up and touched the spot gingerly. 

"Oh..." Sansa moaned quietly as Jon removed the final layers of Amelie's gown. He was just in his trousers, and she was amazed that Jon was as muscular and strong as he was--he was a man now. And Lady Amelie was everything a woman ought to be, in Sansa's mind; her full, plump breasts and her tiny waist and her rounded hips complemented Jon's masculine form. 

"You can go if you want," Jon turned back to her and Sansa dropped her skirts, blushing ashamedly. He realized that Sansa didn't want to leave, and Amelie didn't seem embarrassed or phased by her presence so he simply sighed and began to unlace his trousers. Sansa wished she could have had a better view, but judging on how Amelie's eyes lit up Sansa assumed her cousin was, as the older girls called it, blessed by the gods. Her hand returned to her sex, gently rubbing and stroking herself until she found the source of the ache; her clit was aching and swollen with need, and Sansa whimpered as she circled her fingers around the sensitive bud. 

Amelie watched the girl out of the corner of her eye, shifting onto her belly and taking Jon's throbbing cock into her hand, running her tongue up the underside of his length. She smirked as he groaned, thrusting into her hand. Her next move was to swirl her tongue around his head before taking as much of his cock into her mouth as she could. Jon's fingers tangled in her blonde curls and he began to thrust steadily into her mouth. 

"Good girl," Jon moaned, eyes half closed and jaw slack, "Take my cock, darling... Just like that..." Sansa gasped at how he talked to her, and was almost ready to leave, but her curiosity got the best of her. There was another part of her that told her that if she stayed she too could get pleasured. 

After a few more lazy thrusts of his hips, Jon pulled back and forced Clara onto her hands and knees with her legs toward him. He stroked her dripping cunt with his long fingers, sighing to himself as Amelie moaned and begged for him to fuck her. Sansa found that she was just as wet, and was embarrassed. She had always thought Jon was her half brother, she had grown up thinking of him as such, yet here she was; fingering herself quietly while Jon eased his length into Amelie's sex. Amelie cried out almost immediately, and Sansa wondered if she would make similar sounds when she made love. 

Jon's thrusting was much more intense now, and Sansa rubbed hard at her clit to keep up. Her own moans were in time with Amelie's own, though the blonde was much louder than she. 

"Jon...!" Amelie moaned, biting her lip as Jon picked up his pace and was slamming into her cunt with as much force as he could muster. "Jon, please! Please...!" Sansa cried out at the same time, feeling waves of pleasure wash over her as she did so. Her fingers were coated with her own juices and she blushed; she had made quite the mess of herself, and it was not the kind of thing young ladies did. Still, she didn't feel as embarrassed as she knew she should have.

When Jon had finished inside of Amelie, he turned his attention to Sansa, who was still sitting in her chair, her face flushed and hand still at her sex. Amelie was half-awake and nestled under the blankets of the bed and drifted off to sleep. 

"Stay still," Jon murmured to her as he climbed off the bed and dropped to his knees in front of Sansa. He pulled one of her long, fair legs over his shoulder, running his hand up the smooth skin he found there. Sansa trembled slightly as Jon kissed her inner thigh, just above her knee. His lips ghosted up the sensitive skin until he reached her folds. Sansa sighed blissfully as Jon pressed a tender kiss to her sex, his tongue lapping up her juices as he dragged it through her folds. He continued the ministrations, making Sansa's hips rise from the chair.

"Jon... Jon please..." her pleads were the opposite of Amelie's, soft and sweet... He couldn't say no to her, and soon took her swollen bud into his mouth instead, sucking at it to try and ensure her pleasure. "Jon... Oh..." Sansa began to feel those familiar waves of pleasure and cried out, her fingers tangling in his silver curls as her pleasure washed over her. 

Jon pulled away when they were through and helped Sansa out of her gown. She crawled lazily into the bed and nestled up against Amelie, sighing softly to herself before drifting off to sleep. Jon watched the two sleep for a moment before throwing on his clothes and climbing up to the top deck. They had set sail sometime while he had been pleasuring Amelie, and as White Harbor faded into the distance Jon felt one weight lifting from his shoulders and another weighing him down. He was now responsible for Sansa and Amelie's well-being, and since he had now taken Sansa as his mate as well, that also meant he was in charge of seeing to both of their pleasures. And Sansa had not flowered, so he felt wrong about taking her into his bed. He hoped that his mouth would be enough for her until she had bled, but he could never be sure about Sansa--he didn't know her like he knew Robb.

"Seven hells, what have I gotten myself into?" Jon groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, so writing Sansa still in the room while Jon and Amelie fuck was awkward but... Idk man. Where was she gonna go? And it was fun to write a young, naive Sansa so intrigued by sex, AND intrigued a bit by Amelie since I am a firm supporter of bicurious Sansa.
> 
> Also, since I'm not a monster, she and Jon probably won't actually have actual sex until after she's had her period--as would be expected in Westeros.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and company travel to Dorne. Oberyn awaits his arrival. Jaime figures things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh I've been so busy and I am so sorry! I was sick, then I got a job, and on top of that I have a serious course load, and am playing a sport and am in a play... phew.   
> Anyway, enjoy!

It was the middle of the night when Amelie woke up, smiling slightly at Sansa, who was still fast asleep. She couldn't explain it, but she felt some sort of motherly affection for the girl; she felt responsible for her since she was the only woman around to help her through everything she would be going through. Amelie padded quietly across the floor, grabbing the dressing robe she had packed out of her rucksack, drawing it close to herself and tying it before going to the top deck. She found Jon leaning against the railing, watching as Westeros and the North disappeared in the distance. His silver curls were mussed from the cool sea breeze, and she wrapped her arms around him, propping her chin up on his shoulder. 

"It's a nice night," she murmured. "You can see the stars so much clearer out here..." Jon nodded and continued to look out at the sea. "Why don't you come to bed? It's been a long day..." Amelie rubbed his arms gently and Jon nodded.

"Is Sansa asleep?" he asked her softly. Amelie nodded. "Good. She seemed even more tired than you..." She was amused at how much he cared about her, and took his hand. 

"Come; you need to sleep," she whispered. Jon truly did feel exhausted, and let Amelie drag him down below decks to their cabin. Sansa was curled up under the covers, sleeping peacefully. Amelie helped Jon out of his clothes and they moved into bed together, holding each other close. The steady rocking of the galley lulled them both to sleep, and they both dreamt of what the future had in store for them. 

_Amelie was walking through a garden in a place she didn't know. The sun shone brightly on her face as she strolled along the neatly kept paths. She came to a fountain and sat at its edge, and was surprised when a blonde little boy with big violet eyes came running up to her._

_"Mama! Mama, come chase me!" the boy cried in a high-pitched toddler voice. Amelie beamed at him and rose to her feet, playfully running after him through the garden, but every time she reached to scoop him up into her arms and hold him close he seemed just out of reach... Why couldn't she hold the boy who had called her "mama?"_

_She chased him further and further until she tripped and stumbled. Everything changed. The world was barren and cold; wind whipped through her hair and stung her cheeks. Amelie reached for a cloak but found she was not wearing one. The sound of snow crunching under the weight of someone's feet forced her to pivot sharply around, and what she found nearly took her breath away._

_Jon. Her Jon. With his skin as pale as fresh snow and eyes as blue as frost..._

_She was surrounded, then, with creatures with horrible faces and the same blue eyes encircling them. Amelie tried to call for help, but the words were dead on her tongue._

_"Jon..." she whispered pathetically as they all closed in around her. "Jon please... Jon! JON!"_

"JON!" Amelie sat up, running a hand through her hair. She had never had such a vivid nightmare before. Jon jolted awake at the same time, his face riddled with concern as he wrapped his arms around her. Amelie could tell that something else was bothering him, as the lines in his forehead were so deep-set. Sansa also stirred, smiling sleepily at the others.

"What's wrong, darling?" Jon asked, rubbing a stray tear that had somehow managed to escape and roll down Amelie's cheek. She shook her head; she couldn't tell him what she'd seen.

"Just a bad dream is all. Nothing to worry about," she mumbled. She could tell he wasn't buying it, and sighed. Climbing from the bed, Amelie put her dressing robe back on and made her way back to the top deck. Jon followed in his own robe, and she turned back to him when she knew they were alone. "I saw our son... He... He looked just like you, but with my blonde hair... Oh, Jon he was the most beautiful baby..." Jon smiled slightly at the thought. "He wanted me to chase him through this... this garden. I don't know where we were. But every time I went to scoop him up into my arms, I missed..." Amelie trailed off; she didn't want to tell him any more.

"Is that all?" Jon's voice was filled with concern. He didn't believe that was all Amelie had seen. And try as she might, she found she couldn't lie to him.

"It all changed... I saw you, Jon, but you weren't the same... your skin was as white as snow, and your eyes... they were this inhuman blue, and... and... you looked at me as if you didn't even know me..." her voice wavered and Jon took her into his arms. His scent was familiar and comforting, and Amelie buried her face in the front of his dressing robe. 

Jon didn't like what Amelie had dreamt of; what she had described sounded a lot like The Night King, or at least how he appeared after laying with his queen. And if Amelie, a southron girl, was dreaming of The Others... well, Winter was definitely coming then. And no one was ready. 

"That will never happen, Amelie," he assured, pulling away to cup her face in his hands. "I love you. I would never let anyone harm you. No one will ever harm you, not while I'm around. Do you understand?" She nodded and smiled.

"I guess I was just being a bit silly..." she tried to shrug off her worries and fears. "Let's go back to bed; we've probably upset Sansa with how quickly we left..." Sure enough, Sansa was sitting up in bed with her knees pulled to her chest. Jon smiled slightly at her and Amelie removed her dressing robe, climbing into bed, but making sure to leave room for Jon in the middle. 

~~~~~

"They can't have gotten this far," Jaime huffed in annoyance. They had been searching for two days for Amelie and Sansa with little success. "We need to turn back; start scanning the woods." Robert, who was fairly intoxicated, only grumbled. Ned knew that Jon had made it to White Harbor with the girls so he knew they could start heading back.

"We did say we would go as far south as the Neck," Ned pointed out. "Jon is an accomplished rider; he could lead the girls through the woods and that far south in two days." Jaime wasn't buying it; he was suspicious that Ned had let Jon steal his cousin away, but he didn't have the nerve to tell Robert with Ned so intent on finding his daughter. "The Neck is a day's ride from here; if we find no sign of them, then we can continue back to Winterfell." The men were all in agreement and they continued south without a word.

"Do you believe him?" Jaime asked as he rode up alongside Sandro Clegane. "You know what I've heard about that bastard? I've heard that he's actually got silver curls... and those black eyes are closer to violet on a good day. Who does that sound like to you?" 

Clegane wasn't a fool; Jaime was describing a Targaryen prince. And if there was one so far north, that meant the boy wasn't Ned Stark's bastard but Rhaegar Targaryen's. 

"Doesn't matter who that sounds like to me," The Hound grunted. "The boy did something he shouldn't have, and now he's got to pay the price. Lady Amelie was to be Robb Stark's, and Lady Sansa the prince's. The faster we ride the sooner we find them, so quit your yapping, Lannister, and ride." Jaime rolled his eyes but did as Sandor commanded; he didn't feel like arguing, so he rode up to the king instead. As dangerous as it was for him to stir the pot, Jaime couldn't help it. He liked life with a side of danger. 

"I heard the most delightful rumor about the boy who stole Amelie and Lady Sansa," he stated casually as he rode alongside the king. "The people of Winter Town claim that he's not always had such inky black locks or dark eyes; in fact, they say his looks are quite the opposite. I heard he has the most beautiful silver hair this side of the Narrow Sea, and those black eyes are violet. Did you notice the small braid he wore? And the melancholy expression?"

"This isn't news to me," Robert said gruffly. "Ned told me the truth, Lannister, so stop trying to stir up trouble. Why do you think I'm so determined to find the boy? He's Rhaegar's blood; the last thing any of us need is him stirring up support in the south and trying to usurp the throne." 

Jaime thought about that. He had always thought that Rhaegar would have made a great king. If his son was anything like him... he would be a much better king than Robert. 

He prompted his mount forward and settled into a casual trot alongside Ned Stark. "I know, Stark. I know why you're trying to protect that boy. And... And I think I can help you put a dragon back in the Red Keep..." Ned looked at him in surprise; he had always thought of Jaime Lannister as nothing more than a pretty face. "Just tell me and tell me true; is the boy Rhaegar's son?" Ned's mouth felt dry as he nodded.

"Jon is Rhaegar's trueborn son; the late crown prince married my sister in the ways of the old gods. He... I have tried for seventeen years to keep him safe from people like you and Robert. How do I know I can trust you?" Ned questioned. 

Jaime thought back to the last words he'd had with Rhaegar before the silver prince had ridden off to his doom at The Trident...

_"Promise me you'll take care of them," the tall, slender young man was standing over a cradle, smiling down at his newborn son, Aegon. Jaime was new to the Kingsguard, but he nodded._

_"I promise no harm will come to Princess Elia, Rhaenys, or Prince Aegon," he said. "I will protect your family, Rhaegar."_

"I made a promise, long ago, to protect a man's children. I failed the two I had been entrusted with, but I will not fail again," he replied. Ned could tell that for once in his life Jaime Lannister was not kidding, and he felt reassured. While he did not have Tywin Lannister's support to put Jon on the throne, he had his eldest son's and with Jaime's support came the support of the Kingsguard. "You know, when I first saw him, Jon that is, I saw a bit of him... of Rhaegar. I had convinced myself that my eyes were playing tricks on me. But now..."

"If you know and remember Rhaegar so well, then you know what they are. And what they need to survive," Ned said softly as to not draw attention to their conversation. Jaime knew. The Mad King had tried to take a bite out of him once; had he not been quicker Jaime was sure he would have been drained of his lifeblood. 

"I do know what they are. Did... Did the boy take Amelie as his mate?" Jaime inquired. Ned nodded, and Jaime paled. His little cousin, whom he practically considered a sister, had been chosen by a Targaryen prince. It was something Cersei had wanted all her life--Jaime could remember her trying to purposefully show off her pale, slender neck to Rhaegar in hope he would want a taste--and now Amelie had earned such an honor. Jaime had intended to tell Cersei about Jon Snow's true identity, but now one think was certain.

Cersei could NEVER find out the truth.

~~~~~

Doran Martell had double then triple-checked that everything was ready for the arrival of Prince Jaehaerys after receiving word from Ned Stark that the young man had left the north on a galley bound for Sunspear. He had told himself over and over that while the boy was not Elia's, he was Rhaegar's son and they owed it to him to keep him safe. Try as he might, however, Doran had failed to convince his younger brother of such matters. Oberyn was pacing as he often did--in a very predatory, catlike manner--in front of his seated brother. His golden robes swished as he did so, and Doran was getting very annoyed.

"I don't understand you, brother," Oberyn hissed. "You are going to let a walking, talking reminder of Rhaegar's embarrassment to our sister into our home? If I were in your shoes--"

"But you are not in my shoes," Doran raised a brow. "And the boy, regardless of whom he was born to, would make a better king than Robert Baratheon. If he is half the man Rhaegar was, our country will be in good hands by the time Winter comes." Ellaria Sand traipsed in, draping herself over Oberyn and humming. She was just as angry at the thought of Lyanna Stark's son in their midst, but she was more accepting at the same time; her ambivalence came from the fact that he had been raised a bastard, and she understood how that could be. 

"We will see what the boy is made of," she purred. "If he is a dragon, or a wolf. If he is a wolf pup, we will send him away--wolves have no place among vipers. But if he is a dragon.... well, Dorne could be rewarded for restoring the rightful king to his throne." 

"That is true," Oberyn agreed, suddenly intrigued. He had grown tired of constantly being looked down upon by the Lannisters and other great houses. "Perhaps we can introduce him to Arianne--"

"You know as well as I that Arianne would have no interest in a Northman," Doran chuckled. "We will house Prince Jaehaerys and his bride, and after a fortnight we will decide whether or not he can continue to stay on Dornish soil. If we believe he can remain with us, we will help him gather an army. If he must leave, we will send him to Pentos where the last surviving Targaryens are. Is that fair?" Oberyn had no protests; a fortnight was a long enough time for him to form an opinion of Jaehaerys Targaryen and decide whether or not he wanted him to stay. 

"Our prince is wise," Ellaria said. "A fortnight's time will be more than enough time to make an opinion on Jaehaerys. The Sand Snakes are eager to meet him..." 

Doran knew what that meant; they saw him as a shiny new toy to try and pounce on. He knew that they would try to get whatever meek southron girl Jaehaerys brought with him to be pushed out of the picture in favor for one of them.

"I am sure they are," Oberyn laughed. "If he looks anything like his father, he will be the prettiest man I have ever seen..." Doran rolled his eyes; it seemed like he would also have to worry about his brother coming onto the young prince. 

"He does intend to marry the girl he's bringing as soon as they arrive," he reminded. "A prince needs a bride and heirs, after all." Doran also knew that he was bringing Sansa Stark with him, and that she was to be introduced to his son, Trystane, upon arrival. Ned Stark wanted to get her out of her betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon, and considering the horrible things that flittered down to Dorne from King's Landing about the boy, Doran could not blame him. Besides, his son was a good boy, and would be worthy of a genteel northern girl's heart. 

"Of course a prince needs heirs," Oberyn rolled his eyes. "That is how you continue a house. Or need I remind you how that's done, brother?" A playful grin pulled at the corners of his lips and Ellaria laughed a low, seductive laugh. 

"Your brother has three children of his own, my love," she tightened her hold on her lover. "He knows all about extending the family tree..." And Oberyn had done the same, though not in the proper way. Not that Doran had ever expected him to do things in a traditional manner; Oberyn was the kind of man who laughed in he face of tradition. 

The maester entered the chamber where the three were speaking with a look of urgency on his face. Doran waved a hand to him and the man spoke, carrying a message that had to be from the harbor.

"Sails from White Harbor have been spotted; they're about half a day from port," he informed. "Are there any other preparations you feel need to be done, my lord?" Doran thought it over; the guest chambers had been opened up and freshened; there were jugs of sweet summer wine in the three rooms prepared, along with bowls filled with grapes and oranges and all sorts of fruit. Arianne had even surrendered a few of her own gowns for Lady Amelie and Lady Sansa to use during their stay. 

"No, I believe we are as ready as we will be for the prince's arrival," he declared. "Have the servants air out the guest chambers once more, and have their mattresses and pillows fluffed. No doubt our guests will be exhausted from their journey." The maester nodded and scurried off to do as he was told, and Oberyn began to follow after him. Ellaria exited as well, leaving just as Oberyn turned around to say a few more words to his brother.

"If the boy embarrasses our family like his father did, I will face him in combat, and he will die," he stated grimly. Doran said nothing, and watched as his brother exited with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

~~~~~

The sunny shores of Sunspear could be seen from the top deck of the galley, and Jon had never felt more relieved in his entire life. Amelie was at his side, wearing cream silk with her arm in his. They planned to be married upon docking, and she wanted to look the part. Sansa was on Jon's other side, her red hair plaited down her back in the manner of a proper woman. She supposed she was a woman now, even though she hadn't had her blood yet; she was to be married to her cousin in the ways of the old gods, though it would be at a later date as it was difficult to find a weirwood tree so far south. 

"Almost to safety," Amelie sighed, leaning against Jon. He kissed the top of her head tenderly, rubbing her arm as he did so. "It will be so strange to be on land again... I had just gotten my sea legs!" The three of them all laughed and turned to go back below decks. The captain of the ship called Jon away, however, so Sansa and Amelie made their way down on their own. 

Sansa watched as Amelie stretched out across the bed the three of them had shared; the sheets were still rumpled from the older girl's morning romp with Jon. She would never admit it, but Sansa found Amelie very attractive; more than once she had found herself listening for her moans and cries when Jon made love to her.

"Amelie..." Sansa said softly. "I... Do you like me?" The blonde sat up with a bright grin and patted the spot next to her.

"Of course I do!" Amelie exclaimed. "Why would you even think to ask such a thing? You're a dear, sweet girl, Sansa... and do you think I would share my husband with you if I didn't like you? Would I share my bed with you if I despised you?" She reached and patted Sansa's knee, and the younger girl felt an ache between her thighs. And she could not wait for Jon to come back.

Sansa cautiously leaned toward Amelie, and noticed the blonde's eyes flutter shut. Their lips met and both girls gasped in surprise. It was strange to have your soft lips met by another pair of smooth, pouring lips. Amelie's arms wrapped around Sansa's body, while Sansa tangled her fingers in Amelie's hair and they lay back on the bed. Their hands began to explore each other's bodies, culminating in Sansa's hand slipping up Amelie's skirt. She blushed when she found the blonde was just as wet as she was, and began to stroke her sex like Jon had done to hers before. 

"Oh... Sansa..." Amelie gasped as her own hand grabbed her wrist, holding Sansa's hand between her legs. She was encouraged by such sounds, and began to rub harder, watching as Amelie's hips jolted upward to meet her strokes. Sansa started to push Amelie's skirts upward with her free hand, and began to position her face between her legs, her tongue peeping out curiously to taste her. "Wait... Wait..." 

Sansa sat up and Amelie smiled slightly, her face flushed as she unlaced her gown and then Sansa's. Amelie giggled at how Sansa eagerly groped her breasts, much like how Jon did, and her own hand travelled to the younger girl's cunt, stroking it gently. 

"So... So you like girls too...?" Sansa said softly as Amelie pushed her back onto the bed, kissing her breasts, down her belly to her folds. 

"Yes, of course," Amelie raised a brow at her. "Why wouldn't I?" Sansa shrugged; she didn't think it was common for ladies to like men and women. "We southron ladies are more open-minded than what you think, Sansa... Now relax, let me take care of you." Amelie could see how in need she was, and eagerly took her swollen bud into her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around it.

Sansa's back arched and her fingers tangled in Amelie's blonde curls once more. Her licks and strokes felt so different from Jon's--they were delicate and teasing, unlike his determined, confident ministrations. 

"Amelie... I... Oh gods, I...!" Sansa cried out, reaching her orgasm far quicker than she had expected herself to do. Amelie dutifully lapped up her juices before sitting back on her heels. 

"Good news, my loves, I--" the door had swung open just at that moment, and both girls were horrified to find Jon standing just past the threshold of the cabin. "I... What is going on in here?" Jon would have been lying if he said his cock hadn't hardened at the sight of both his mates naked in bed together. Sansa blushed and stumbled over her words, so Amelie climbed out of bed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"We weren't sure how long you would be gone, so we got started without you... You don't mind, do you, my love?" she purred, humming to herself as Jon's arms wrapped around her so his hands could grab her ass. 

"Not at all," Jon replied as he began to undress. Sansa watched eagerly; she always loved watching Jon take his clothes off. It was different to see him without his tunic on than if it were Robb; there was nothing fun or exciting about seeing her brother without clothes on--she had seen him in various states of undress many times and it was _Robb_ , after all. "I hope you haven't been fully satisfied though, darlings, because I fear I may take a while to catch up." He made quick work of his doublet and tunic, and his long fingers went to work on the laces of his trousers. Amelie giggled and pushed them down, dropping to her knees and taking his cock in her hands. Sansa watched them with a bit of jealousy; she wanted to pleasure him.

When Jon was through with both of them, both Amelie and Sansa were limp like rag dolls on the bed, and he was exhausted himself, so he climbed into bed and pulled them both close to him. 

"Rest up, lovelies... the gods only know what awaits us in Dorne," he sighed.


End file.
